Dansant
by CailinNollaig
Summary: With time rapidly running out to find the English killer terrorising France, Hermione couldn't be dealing with things like Blaise Zabini. Or a certain Draco Malfoy, after his disappearance. ABANDONED.
1. Still a Little Hard to Say

A/N: Hello there :) So I finally decided on writing this story, but hopefully it'll move so quickly that I can then switch to other projects. However, I'm excited about this fic and it's going to be hugely different to the last one I wrote! Chapters will on average be _far, far _longer than this one, but this is just my opening. Just giving you a feel for the story. :)

I'm also doing a sequal to FH, but I'm not, not, _not _releasing it till I finish every, single chapter. So, basically, it could be 2011 before anyone sees it! Unfortunately. Thanks for those readers who voted on which story they wanted me to continue, for those who wanted others, no fear, I will eventually get around to it. I'm particularly interested in "How To Open Doors With Just A Smile" and "Neutron Star Collision" so we shall see :) anyway, onto the story! Apologies for a longer A/N than chapter ;) haha

xCailinNollaigx  
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, nor do I own the summary line! Belongs to Casablanca :) Chapter title taken from Damien Rice's song "Canonball". All chapter titles will be taken from songs, and usually relate quite well to the chapter :)

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**Dark and Stormy Nights.**

Chapter One: Still a Little Hard to Say What's Going On

_Summary: Of all the gin bars, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine. DMHG._

Rain blurred her vision as she stumbled through the foreign streets, only finding her way because her wand told her. It was a miserable night with torrents of water falling from the sky and fog clouding the roads - dark, ominous clouds hovered overhead and she shivered. The cold was also a factor in the misery of the weather. Her fingers were unable to move at this point, and she could no longer feel her nose. Despite this, Hermione kept on walking determinedly through the Wizarding town.

Finally seeing somewhere she could get a drink and de-freeze before she made the long trip home, Hermione smiled and lumbered into '_Les Rires'. _Glancing around, she noticed that it was a fairly nice pub, with lighting fires and a candle in the middle of each table. There were rows of drink behind the counter - some wine dating back years, and everything was made out of a dark, smooth wood. She was warming up already.

Soothing music flooded her ears and she smiled again automatically, feeling much more at ease now. The past few weeks had been extremely stressful, given that she wasn't fully sure what she was doing here. Sent by the Ministry on a crazed mission to find an englishman terrorizing France, she had no idea where to start. Originally, Hermione had been sent on her own, but she had been informed last night that Harry, her partner, would soon be joining her - which would be interesting, to say the least. Having her best friend there would make things a lot easier but not necessarily more productive. They tended to have very different approaches to things, but usually that worked out for the best. Granted, they had been partners for three years now.

"Bonsoir Mademoiselle, que voudriez-vous aimez?"

Hermione was drawn from her reverie with a jump, then sent the barman an apologetic look. Her French was awful as she hadn't spoken it since she did it school before Hogwarts, but common sense was able to translate for her. "Butterbeer?"

He nodded, and set off making her drink. A moment later he was back and she had the frothy delight sitting in front of her. Hermione thanked him with what little French she knew and handed him the money.

It was hard staying in France when she knew very little of the language. However, she was a quick learner, and they didn't call her the brightest witch of her age for nothing.

Hermione glanced around once again, and was drawn this time to the piano. The pianist was evidently very good, and as her curiosity rose, she decided to sit next the piano as others had done, to listen more closely to the beautiful melody being played.

She sat for hours, not feeling the time slip by her as she stared at the piano and listened to the lovely tunes. She couldn't see the player from where she sat, but was content in imagining what kind of man could sit behind it - or indeed, a woman. They had to be intelligent to compose and play the sort of music being produced. She imagined they would be good-looking, as they were a musician and its almost a rule. They had to be cultured given the other composers songs they dabbled in.

Hermione frowned; she was either very jealous of a woman, or seriously contemplating marrying a man sitting across from her. She laughed at the thought.

Then she got the fright of her life as the player sat up at the end, smiled at the crowd and then landed on her astonished gaze. He winked at her directly and then said goodnight to the crowd as he gained a round of thunderous applause. Hermione's mouth was still agape, her heart beating, her eyes round and her breath held. This was the man who she had not seen since he had disappeared three years ago without a trace - a man everyone speculated to be dead. A man who she had not seen since she trained with eight years ago and partnered with for four. Hermione was dizzy now, and felt a wave of tiredness wash over her.

She had just joked about marrying Draco Malfoy.

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Apologies for the French, it's kind of awful! If anyone knows the right way of saying it, do tell me :) I'm doing French atm, but don't really know what they'd say in a restaurant. Well, hope you liked, and reviews very much loved :)

**DESCRIPTION/EXTENDED SUMMARY: ****Hermione's sent to France by the Ministry on a case. What she doesn't bank on, is finding Draco Malfoy behind the piano of very beautiful cafe/bar, three years after his disappearance.**

**xCNx**


	2. Playful Conversation Starts

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews so far! They have been lovely :) Given how short the last chapter was, I've decided to also release this one. However, I then will not be updating for a while.. Well, when I say a while, I mean not within a day!  
Hope you like, any questions, and feel free to PM.  
Chapter Title inspired by song "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift. I don't own it. Evidently. Nor am I JK Rowling - so now that we're clear on that...

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**Chapter Two: The Playful Conversation Starts**

Her mind couldn't seem to process each thought quick enough, and so Hermione was left with a tangle of ideas and theories that didn't connect nor make sense - in fact, they were more speculations than anything with any fact whatsoever backing it up. It couldn't have been him, it simply couldn't - not the man she hadn't seen in three years. It would be too coincidental, too easy and yet so difficult at the same time. Hermione hadn't moved yet, but the applause had died down and Draco had long left. He seemed a lot less effected in all this than she was, which only served to irritate and anger her.

Lost in thought, Hermione barely registered it when someone sat down next to her, "Pretty impressive, oui?" he laughed, "Bet you wished you had tapped that now," there was a wink, but Hermione hadn't spared him the glance to see it. She was still staring fixatedly on the space he had vacated, when she shook her head and returned to reality.

Wondering of the audacity of the person beside her, Hermione turned her gaze to them, prepared to unload the majority of her anger in one long rant, but she was stopped before she could even start. Hermione gaped, struck for the second time that evening, "_Blaise?_"

"The one and only, at your service." His smile was infectious, standing blindly out against his dark skin which was flawlessly glowing, not a blemish nor imperfection in sight. His eyes were a dark chocolate brown that looked like they could mesmerise and hypnotise anyone into doing whatever he may please - they were tantalizingly dark and yet so optimistically light. It was a complete contradiction, but as was Blaise Zabini. His teeth were perfectly aligned, gleaming white and adding an extra punch to his overall attractiveness. Yes, no one could deny that the man was good-looking, or they would certainly be lying. What was more though, was that Blaise knew exactly how good-looking he was, and used that to his advantage whenever the opportunity arose.

As she previously mentioned, he was a contradiction if there ever was one; Slytherin, and possessing a lot of their qualities - cunning, manipulative and self-preservation, but he was also the complete opposite to the typical Slytherin - he didn't hate half-blood or muggle-born wizards, he wasn't brooding and dark, he wasn't cruel for the sake of it and he didn't look down on everyone; humorous and comical, wanting to make every single person laugh, but never afraid to smash someone's insane theory to smithereens or tell a person exactly what he thought of them, bluntly and effectively; attractive and willing to use it to his advantage when he could, but never in a relationship, and never slept his way up the career ladder; a happy and fun-loving person who generally brought a light and infectious atmosphere with him wherever he went, but had a hard life as a child, and as Hermione said, never in a relationship - never shared this happiness with anyone; willing to talk to everyone, but kept everything close to his chest, never speaking about exclusively personal things. In fact, Hermione knew very little about his youth and growing up, due exactly to the fact that he never spoke about it.

Locked behind those great brown eyes was a history waiting to be told.

She was undeniably intrigued, and gazed at him for a few more minutes. He was still smiling, but his was tilted now, wondering and waiting for her response. Yes, his smile was indeed infectious, but brought back to the matter at hand, she was able to clutch onto her irritation. "Not to be rude Blaise, but what the hell are you doing here? I thought you accepted the Italian Ministry's transfer offer?" Confusion was written all over her face. He had been offered a great promotion to a job in the Wizengamot of Italy's Ministry, being fluent in Italian. His mother had been born and raised in Italy, and he had been born there before his mother took him to Italy at a very young age. She never found out why they emigrated, but Hermione put it down to the bad economics of the time.

He nodded, "I did, but figured I was needed more here.. My expertise are in demand, you know," he waggled his eyebrows, and the innuendo was made clear as one of the girls walking by gave him an appreciative glance.

Hermione rolled her eyes; this was what the lawyers of the country came to. "Wonderful. And I don't suppose you'll tell me why Malfoy is here, will you?"

He gave her a broad grin, "Not a chance there, Hermione. You should ask him yourself, I'd say you've a lot to talk about."

"I'm not going to go searching him out.." she replied stubbornly, frowning and allowing her eyes to roam to the piano once more.

He held up his hands defensively, "I'm not saying you have to. After all, you were just enjoying a drink here, weren't you?" Her frown deepened, but before she could respond, Blaise continued, "It has been a pleasure seeing you again, Hermione. Hopefully we'll run into each other again soon,"

"One can only hope." she joked, and he chuckled, standing up from his chair and nodding goodbye to her. She watched as he approached the bar to presumably pay his bill, and Hermione fell back against her seat with a deep sigh. It had certainly been an eventful night, and her curiosity was out of control. She hated being so out of the loop, so in the dark and unaware of everything going on. She needed to talk to Draco; he had, after all, up and left without a trace and she had been left alone and shocked. There had been no serious ties between them, but Hermione had been hurt to think he wouldn't even give his partner the courtesy of letting her know he was resigning. She had - wrongly, evidently - thought they had formed something of a friendship and it had hurt to find out truly _wrong _she had been.

Why did he just leave? So quickly and without notice? Hermione knew in that moment that she had to know, and if she didn't find out, she would spend the rest of her days regretting this moment. Uncharacteristically impulsively, Hermione jumped from her seat, grabbing her bag and coat, and ran to catch up with Blaise who was now walking out the door.

Yes, she had tons of questions, but he also had all he answers.

* * *

The cold assailed her the moment she stepped out of the warm and cosy bar, causing her to attempt to pull her coat on as she ran after the man. He certainly walked fast, but there was no sense of urgency or rush around him, it was just the fact that he had long strides and was probably looking forward to getting out of the cold. His hands were buried in his coat pockets, and he strode with a confidence not seen in the average man.

"Blaise!" She shouted, alerting him of her presence. She was only a few steps behind now, and figured there was no point in running the whole time. He looked back at her and gave her that contagious grin.

"I didn't think you would let me get away that easily,"

"Not on your life." she replied easily, falling into step with him, trying to control her breathing as to not look unfit.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, "Are you okay there?" there was humour in his tone that did not go unnoticed.

She coughed purposely - to stall time to think of an answer, or to take away from her lack of fitness, she didn't know - and rubbed her hands together. "Perfectly. Now, where do you suppose I start in my questions?"

It had been a pleasant walk to his flat, with them discussing everything but the matter at hand, as she informed him of what had gone on in England since he had left - the important things such as the scandalous affair between two of their former co-workers and the unplanned, but welcomed, pregnancy that was a result of that. Hermione usually wasn't one to partake in such uncultured gossip, but they had both known the two of the workers very well, and she felt he should be privy to the new turn in their lives.

When they arrived at his flat, she was somehow still surprised by the luxury of it - though logically, she knew she shouldn't of been. Blaise was exceedingly wealthy after all.

She found out that he didn't share a flat of Draco, but they lived in close proximity to each other - she wasn't sure what his definition of 'close' was, and it wasn't important enough a question to be at the forefront of her mind.

It was every bit the bachelor pad - there were no distinctly feminine touches and it even smelled of 'man', and she could smell the cologne that Blaise was wearing the moment she stepped through the door; it wasn't a bad smell. She felt slightly out of place, and got the impression that many girls never got to sit in Blaise Zabini's kitchen to talk. He put the kettle on and told her he'd be back in a minute - so she sat and waited, what more could she do? Snooping had crossed her mind, admittedly, but Hermione was far too careful to do such a reckless thing. If caught, she would definitely not get the answers needed. However, if these answers were still not provided by the end of the night, she would be forced to revisit and snoop.

She really had got insatiable curiosity. It was healthy, honestly.

Blaise returned looking more irritated before, but the expression was gone as quickly as it came, and he sat across from her with two mugs. "Okay, Hermione, you've cajoled me into telling you a few select things. Shoot, and I will decide which I'll answer."

She blew her tea, knowing she wasn't going to get a better deal out of him. "Why is Draco here?"

His mouth quirked, "That would be the first question.. Also, it is de_clined._" He said, as if on one of those ridiculous game-shows that were always on television. But Blaise would know nothing of televisions, of course. "Try again later."

"Why would later make a difference?" She asked exasperated.

The dirty joke was right there for him to make, and she knew she had walked herself into a trap, but instead he reigned in his more dirty-minded side, "Seemed like the right thing to say. They're always saying it on the television."

She choked a little on her tea, and he patted her back, laughing, "I know, you're probably disappointed I didn't make a pass at you, but don't worry - I'll make it up by the end of the night if you want."

The innuendo was clear.

Rather than give him the affronted look she would anyone else, she laughed at the absurdness of the night and those words. "Whatever, Blaise. I was actually shocked by your knowledge of what a television is.." Her gaze turned suspicious, and she raised a brow at him.

"I don't know why you look so suspicious, surely it's a good thing? Anyway, this is a muggle apartment, people before me left it here and I was curious. So sue me." He shrugged casually, joking. "Although I wouldn't recommend it because I'm a brilliant lawyer," he said with a flash of his pearly-whites.

She rolled her eyes again. "Let's bypass your curiosity of the telly and continue to what I originally came here for. If you won't tell me why Draco's here, why are _you _here?"

He sighed, tapping the table as he processed his response carefully. "He asked me to." was the simplest reply possible, and yet, that was what she was given. She gave him a look that said she was not accepting that mere answer, and so he went on, "I was in the Italian job a year, getting a little bored if I'm honest - it's all dirty deals over there, I'm telling you - when Draco contacts me asking if I'll help him with something, said it was urgent and he needed someone he could trust. Of course I had to help my best mate!" He finished, as if it explained it all.

She considered this for a moment, and knew it was the complete truth - there was no real need for fabrication, and nothing of real use was revealed to her in that sentence. Except for the fact that he needed _urgent _help. It had to have been serious then, and obviously required the utmost discretion given that he only enlisted Blaise for help.

Something else piqued her interest, "So you just dropped everything for your friend?" It was a moment in which she found admiration for Blaise Zabini, and not for his looks. If Harry or Ron were in trouble, she would leave everything at the drop of a hat, and it was comforting to be in the presence of someone who practiced these values.

"Course I did. Besides, there was a whole new pool of girls in France, just waiting to be dazzled by Blaise Zabini - I couldn't deprive them of one of the most devastatingly handsome men they would ever meet. It wouldn't have been fair, and I'm all about equality."

"Spoken like a true lawyer." Hermione sent wryly, sipping her tea.

Blaise winked, "As always. Democracy and all that. Now, are you quite done?"

"I've gotten _one _answer from you, Blaise."

He shrugged, propping his elbow up on the back of his chair, "Out of two, that's not doing bad."

There were footsteps in one of the rooms, and Hermione turned towards the door. She hadn't been aware that someone was in the apartment other than the two of them and she felt a streak of fear run through her - how well did she know Blaise Zabini? With a glance towards him and a shake of her head, Hermione's logic took over again she reasoned that he was actually a very nice person and she knew him pretty well from the years in the Ministry.

"You know, for some reason, I always forget that I can apparate from the laneway of the bar. Had to endure the walk home again because of that." Hermione froze, and closed her eyes slowly, knowing Blaise was watching her with an amused expression. She would recognise that voice anywhere, no matter if she were in France, England or China she would recognise that aristocratic, clear-cut voice.

He came into the room without even sparing her a look, still with his grey winter coat on and black scarf, and headed towards the kettle. He flicked his wand to boil the water instantly, and set about making his tea. From the back, he seemed just the same. Wide, narrow shoulders that led to a lean body. It appeared that his conviction that long, blond hair did not suit men had not changed - he refused to grow his hair like his fathers, and often joked about the length of Lucius'. Even in Lucius' presence a few times, who gave a few jibes back and was well accustomed to defending his golden locks that he was in fact so proud of.

Blaise still looked amused, twisting around in his chair to cock his brow at Draco's back before looking back at her. He gave a shrug that reminded her strongly that he was Italian, though she was beginning to find that shrug uniquely 'Blaise'.

Hermione brushed back a lock of hair distractedly, absently, to take away from the tension she felt. She then copped on - there was no reason for her to feel awkward or tense, there was nothing for her to worry about, and the only emotion she needed now was anger at the man now blatantly ignoring her.

Finally, after making his tea, Draco turned around casually. He held the cup in his hands, and she could see they were raw red from the cold, and took a small sip. "Bonjour Hermione - that insatiable curiosity didn't hold out very long, did it?"

He smirked and she narrowed her eyes - she was not about to play a game of banter and battle of the wits.

"Did you expect any less? No, I am not known for my ability to let the unknown go, so why don't you put me out of my misery and tell me why exactly I found you behind a piano in France?"

"Everyone has to earn a living, no?" He was still leaning against the counter, maddeningly cool in his approach to the whole thing. She stared into those unreadable grey eyes, trying to gain some sort of knowledge on his true stance to this, but all efforts were futile as he controlled his impassive expression - minus the flickers of humour.

"This is true.. What stumps me is why someone would have to leave a country and reasonably well paid job for one that is famously ill-paid.."

Draco chuckled a little, "Never could get one past you," Oh, wherever Draco Malfoy was, sarcasm was always soon to follow - guaranteed.

"The sarcasm is appreciated." She rolled her eyes, "Now could someone please tell me what is going on?"

Blaise finally spoke after observing the back-and-forth match between Hermione and Draco, thoroughly fed up with their verbal ping-pong match. "Draco had to kill a guy, simple as that."

Hermione blinked. "I'm sorry, I think I heard that wrong. Come again?"

"Draco still cries." Blaise lied smoothly, not batting a lid, but a smile blooming on his face.

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes again at Blaise's antics. "Hah, hah. I'm about to call Pansy Parkinson and alert her of your whereabouts - so I suggest someone starts talking or I-"

"Do it Draco, please don't let her come back… It was a close shave last time, I'm not sure I could survive that kind of pain again.." Blaise went on, melodramatically.

Draco gave him a roll of his eyes and an exasperated sigh, "Shut up, Blaise. He's telling the truth though, Granger. I haven't yet killed him - but now that you're here, it could make things a lot easier."

She wasn't quite sure what to make of those words.


	3. When The Truth Is Told

A/N: Hi all, just added the note to the chapter now. Had no time earlier but wanted to put out the chapter before I went out so that when I came back in I'd have some reviews :) haha.. On a completely related note, snow is AMAZING. The biggest snowfall in my lifetime and it is simply STUNNING! Now, moving on, another short chapter, but I hope to get another one finished very soon. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, they're definitely fuelling this story! It's funny to see the guesses as well :)  
Don't own HP or Vienna btw.

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**Chapter Three: When The Truth Is Told**

_Where's the fire, what's the hurry about?_  
_You better cool it off before you burn it out_  
_You got so much to do and only_  
_So many hours in a day_

_But you know that when the truth is told_  
_That you can get what you want_  
_Or you can just get old_  
_You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through_  
_When will you realize...Vienna waits for you_

_"Vienna" - Billy Joel._

Hermione levelled her gaze with Draco, knowing all too well the games he was capable of playing and the webs he was far too accustomed to spinning. She knew that that sentence was going to change everything, perhaps even her life, and took a pause to gather her thoughts. Kill someone? Why, Hermione wasn't going to kill anyone, anytime soon. She was here on a mission foremost, and she couldn't forget that for some half-crazed Malfoy plan to kill someone who may or may not have crossed paths with her once before. Hermione attempted to read Draco, though his face was perfectly impassive except for the look of amusement in his eyes, as usual. Stupid Malfoy, she thought.

Hermione finally let out a long exhale, and let her eyes flicker to Blaise. He was looking suitably bored with the wait and was now spinning a coin on the table, calling aloud on which side he thought it would land on. Neither Hermione or Draco responded to his cheers and sounds of dismay.

"Well do go on. Pray tell, why in the world would I help you _kill _someone? In fact, I'm rather appalled by the whole situation.. Why are you trying to kill someone in the first place?… You were reformed!" She cried at the end, accusatorily.

"I _am _reformed." He replied, exasperated. "Must you always be so dramatic?"

"Gryffindors," Blaise added with a roll of his eyes, purely to get a reaction out of Hermione. He received one in the form of a sharp glance.

She discarded all the rest then, and came back to the original topic, "I don't want to beat around the bush anymore, Draco. What's this all about?"

He sighed deeply and sat down beside Blaise, who sat across from her - meaning Draco was now diagonally across from her. Her eyes followed him as he moved, fearing he would disappear again if she didn't keep her eyes glued to his every movement. Her irrational fear was for naught though because he did sit down, and gave her an assessing look.

"I know you'll help me because I know why you're here."

She titled her head back as her thoughts raced, "You know why I'm here?"

"Yes. You're here to find the man that's been killing the purebloods here - as it happens, so am I."

Hermione blinked, thoughts reeling. Had he really just said what she thought he had? How did he know her agenda? How did he know about the killings? They hadn't been made public as far as she knew. Her eyes strayed to Blaise and she connected it.

"You work in the French ministry now, don't you?"

He nodded, "Ten points there, Hermione," with another of his trademark winks. She could see herself getting annoyed by those infectious winks.

"I see. What's the personal vendetta against him?"

Draco shook his head, leaning forward as he rose from the table, mug empty. He put it in the sink and stood there for a moment, hands gripping the counter. His eyes were staring at the mug still, and she knew he was thinking hard about his next words. When he turned back around, his eyes seemed a little wearier and he looked like he just wanted to sleep. Despite the weariness surrounding him, his eyes were also hard, much steelier and colder than they had been since she arrived.

"Smartest witch of her age," Blaise tutted, but there was a quiet warning in his gaze and Hermione was beyond confused.

"Granger," he started, with a tone that suggested she was stupid. Hermione struggled to keep her indignation at bay. "Who do you think was his first victim?"

It hit her like a ton of bricks, and Hermione was knocked for words. Her mouth opened and closed a few times as the realisation became reality and she began connecting the dots. Hermione had always wondered if_ that case _was a factor in Draco's apparent disappearance - but for the deaths, not for the actual murderer. She had no idea of who the murderer was, and due to the use of a muggle gun, it was impossible to narrow it down. Despite the fact that it should be easier with the absence of magic as most people would use magic, their suspect list was aimless and had a range of personalities and characters. There was no constant. The case was left open and two aurors were still working on it, but Draco left two months afterwards. Hermione could scarcely believe her stupidity in not making the connection with the case and his disappearance.

He got information from somewhere that the killer had moved to France, and seized on the opportunity to quench his thirst for revenge. What begged to be answered though, was how he obtained this vital piece of information? It certainly wasn't the British Ministry. They didn't even know who had committed the murder to know they had migrated. She knew was now was not the time to ask.

Hermione looked up at him, shaking her head slowly as she searched for the right words. "I-I don't know what to say.. Sorry, I had no idea.."

He scoffed, "Obviously. We'll talk tomorrow." Draco then turned, coat still on, towards the door. He didn't glance back once, not as he was walking, not as he turned the doorknob and certainly not when he walked out and slammed the door behind him.

Blaise sucked in a breath and turned to her, "Don't take that personally." Hermione nodded dumbly.

"He lives close?"

"Oh yeah, across the hall. It's great 'cause I'm the shoulder they all cry on coming out of his apartment." He grinned wolfishly, and Hermione raised a brow.

"That's a little pathetic, Blaise, I have to admit." She stood and grabbed her coat, aware that he was watching her put it on.

"No, I was joking. No girls ever get into that apartment, that much is true. Anyone else that comes out usually does need comforting though, former death eaters and the like."

She stilled, "He keeps contact with former Death Eaters?"

Blaise saw her assumption, and waved her off. "Of course not in the context that you're thinking. He just grills them for answers sometimes… Nothing dark and dangerous."

Hermione smiled, feeling slightly relieved. The reality of the night had still not sunk in - to think it had all started with her tiredly stumbling into an old pub. That was hardly believable!

Blaise observed her, "You're knackered. There's a floo in the sitting room if you want to use it instead of apparition?"

She only nodded in response, and followed him to the floo. She felt the exhaustion from earlier overcome her again, and was weary with all that she had learned. Hermione needed some time to process this, and another opinion on the strange turn her stay in France had taken.

Hermione frowned; Harry was probably worried sick as well. She promised to be back hours ago. No matter, his worries would soon be put to rest when she arrived at their hotel room. They were sharing on account of the huge suite and it being far easier, but both had separate rooms and a sort of living room in between the two rooms. It was luxurious in its unique layout, but otherwise it lacked any special features or lush furniture.

She got into the fireplace with her handful of powder, and tried to sum up her gratitude and thoughts of the night. She glanced up at Blaise, who was standing in front of the fireplace, arms folded, his boyish grin deigning his face, and he tilted his head in askance.

"I-I.. I just want to say thank you. And, that of course, I'll be in touch." She gave him a small smile, but before he could begin to reply, Hermione threw the powder down and shouted the name of her hotel.

Blaise closed his mouth abruptly; she was gone.

* * *

The floo home was disappointingly short, Hermione thought as she almost tripped upon landing in her hotel lobby. Sighing heavily, she picked herself back up and attempted to retain her dignity as she walked across the room towards the lift. The ride up was painfully short, in contrast to the floo, and she found herself tapping her foot impatiently. She was exhausted and dying to get into her bed and sleep. Granted, she knew it would be another hour before she got to do this due to her roommate. Oh, the woes of having a partner.

As Hermione was about to put her key - which was a card - into the electric lock, the door swung open and Harry stood before her. His expression was one of relief as soon as he saw she was fully intact, but then he crossed his arms and lifted a brow.

"Care to explain?"

Hermione pushed past him, setting her bag down on the couch and taking her coat off. She paused then, putting her hands on her hips and standing still. She was collecting her thoughts when Harry touched her shoulder, a look of concern on his face. "Hermione?"

She jumped a little, then focused her eyes on Harry. "I've just had the most surreal day in years - literally."

Interest sparked in his eyes, and Harry ushered her onto the couch. "Oh? To do with the case?" He threw her a cushion, "Tea?"

"No, thanks. And I think so.."

He fell onto the seat beside her, frowning, "You think so?"

"Well, it's hard to explain. After we had that meeting in the ministry, I, as I said was going to, went in search of a warm bar. To relax; remember?" He nodded mutely, and she continued. "I found a lovely pub, warm and cosy. There was a pianist and the music was wonderful, but-but.. I still can't believe it. Harry, _Draco Malfoy _was sitting behind that piano."

His green eyes widened and his mouth dropped, much like Hermione's reaction. Harry was quite speechless - it had been two years since he saw Draco, and the last place he expected to find him was in France. Well, Hermione to find him. "Malfoy?" He repeated, astonishment waving through his tone.

"_Draco _Malfoy. Not his parents, him. And _Blaise _is with him!"

"What?" Harry asked, voice raised slightly with the surprise. "He went to Italy!"

"For a _year_. Then he came here to help Draco - and this is the best part, really -"

"Why do I get the feeling that's sarcasm?"

"The _best part _is that they're looking to kill the same guy we're hunting down. Now, I was stumped at first, but then it became quite simple - why do you think Draco would want to kill this man? Or in his words, who do you think his first victim was?"

There were a few minutes of silence. Harry's eyes strayed as his thoughts raced, systematically going through any possible connection. Hermione could see his mind working and was waiting patiently for that golden moment where the dots would connect.

Harry's head snapped and his eyes flew back to hers, a question in them.

Bingo.

"You-you don't mean Astoria?"

* * *

A/N: I know. That was evil. Reviews loved :D haha


	4. There's Some Things You Can't Speak Of

A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews guys, I appreciate them :) Also, I just would like to do a bit of advertising for a new website I joined - it's called "rivalsinlove(dot)com" and is really quite brilliant! Great site, and it's a Dramione one. Other characters allowed, too, but it's primarily Dramione and is wonderful :D I recommend a join, and if you do, my penname is the same if you want to contact me with any questions or just hello :)  
Anyway, on with the chapter! Enjoy :)

* * *

**Chapter Four: There's Some Things You Can't Speak Of.**

_There's some things you can't speak of,_  
_But tonight you'll live it all again._  
_You wouldn't be shattered on the floor now_  
_If only you would sing what you know now then._  
_"Innocent" - Taylor Swift._

Hermione woke early the next morning, as she always did, but rather than her usual morning rush to get things done, she lay in bed for a while. She had never taken the time to realise how truly peaceful and quiet it was in the morning, nor how comfortable the bed was. She allowed her thoughts to move to more substantial things - like the day before. She could still scarcely believe it had happened, and if it weren't for the utter fatigue she felt Hermione would question all of it.

But Draco Malfoy really was in France, making his living by playing piano for a Wizarding pub. Hermione couldn't quite convey all this meant to her - this was a man she had been reasonably close to. Working in such close quarters had made it inevitable. During some cases, they had to work in other counties and cities, meaning they had to spend a lot of alone time together. They had to eat together, forcing conversation; discuss the case together; kill waiting time together; take down the criminals together. Whether they had liked it or not, they had been fairly inseparable for quite a few years. Of course, the first year or so was torture - but that was back when they were training to be aurors together. Hermione, being the studious being she was, went back to Hogwarts to obtain her NEWTs, whereas Harry and Ron simply went straight on. That had been a difficult year, but Luna and Ginny had been in the year below her, and a few Gryffindors from Hermione's year returned also. She had spent her time with Neville, primarily.

Surprisingly to her at the time though, Draco had also returned to school. They didn't speak at all during the year, not even in class, and while that didn't bode well for their future working careers together - it also meant they didn't fight, which was of course a good thing. It had been a relatively quiet year.

She also got to know Blaise that year, purely because he had been selected as a 'eighth year' prefect. There had only been one from each house.

Regardless, the fact stood that despite all that they had gone through as children and teenagers, Hermione and Draco had still managed to somehow form a friendship. They, incredulously, became great friends. _Great Friends._

Hermione swallowed thickly and turned over in her bed. Yes, that was all she remembered. They had been very good friends - and he had been engaged to Astoria Greengrass.

A knock at the door, followed by; "Hermione?"

She muffled a groan. "Yes?"

"It's coming up to nine, and we've a long day ahead. Time to rise and shine!" Harry laughed a little after her audibly loud moan. It was uncharacteristic of Hermione to want to stay in bed, but Harry was unperturbed. He would want to stew in his thoughts for a week if he were Hermione. He knew that better than anyone.

* * *

It was twenty minutes later before Hermione was ready, pouring herself a cup of tea in order to prepare herself for the day - and the cold. She had two layers of clothing on, and one at the waiting for when she was leaving. She would be well prepared for the snow when it came, as it was due to that day. Hermione was suddenly aware that Harry was staring at her with a frown, thinking deeply. She met his gaze and gazed back at him, not willing to look away until he spoke.

It was another few minutes. "What is your plan of action today? You know we have to go to the Ministry later. We've got nothing so far, so Malfoy more than ever has to give us something solid to go on. We have to find this guy before he kills anyone else - before he becomes public and there's a hysteria. People here have known nothing but peace, and he's threatening that."

Hermione agreed wholly, but she honestly didn't know what her plan was. Did she just suppose she could storm into Draco's apartment and demand to know what was going on? She was sure that would go down a treat with the prideful, stubborn, arrogant and intelligent man that was Draco Malfoy. She could always use Blaise again.

In the end, she was going to have to speak to Draco alone - without Harry and without Blaise. There were some things they needed to discuss that neither of the others needed to hear, and she wanted to see how he was sincerely doing - because she did care. Harry and Blaise could discuss the case while she talked with Draco.

In all seriousness, Draco had to have something compelling, otherwise Hermione and Harry would be called back to England due to their lack of ability, and someone else would be deployed. They had been in France for four months now - returning home on the weekends, unless they were too tired, as happened frequently. Neither of them had very much to go home to either - besides the Weasleys. With Harry's frosty reception from Ginny constantly and Hermione's busy life, they rarely made it anymore to the Sunday dinners. Hermione had her own parents to visit, too, which Harry often accompanied her to as he had no where else to go. On other days, they visited Ron and Luna, who lived in domestic bliss.

"Hermione?"

She jumped and set him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Harry. My thoughts are all over the place this morning."

"Understandable. So you want to talk to Draco alone? We'll have to be finished up by twelve. The witness is in then - and we definitely need to be the first to talk to him. That other bloke did an awful job last time."

Hermione's nose scrunched in distaste as she recalled the memory, "Oh yes, stunning the poor witness is always a sure-fire way to get answers."

"I've no idea what they taught him, but the rest seem fine." Harry glanced at his watch, "Come on Granger, we better be leaving," He nudged her as he said her name, and then followed onto his room to retrieve his jacket.

Hermione placed her cup in the sink and closed her eyes; this was definitely going to be an eventful today.

* * *

It had been quickly established that they should contact Blaise first, he being the more amicable and welcoming of the two - not to mention the one most at ease. Not being so personally involved to the case - and to Harry and Hermione - Blaise was not half as concerned as the rest of them. Though he should have been in work, Hermione knew he would go in late on an account of speaking to them. He could probably afford to at his rank, Hermione thought enviously. She often thought her brains would be better use in another department, but those thoughts were usually disregarded.

They rapped on his door loudly, hoping to rouse him from sleep if he was indeed in bed. She had debated flooing right into his living room, but eventually decided that she wouldn't stomp _all _over his boundaries - if he had any, it was Blaise she was talking about.

However, despite all her fears of him not being home or not answering, the door swung open within two minutes of knocking. "Hermione, fancy seeing you again," He smiled, and then his gaze moved past her to Harry. "Harry Potter, wow, it has been a long time! Still got that Weasley hanging on your arm?"

"Which one?" Someone quipped, and they spun to see Draco at his door, head tilted. Hermione could already see he had calmed down, and was in a much better mood than he had been yesterday. Obviously he had came to conclusions and settled his troubles and problems with her being there.

Harry nodded to him, "Still as funny as ever, Malfoy."

Draco smirked, "I would hate to disappoint."

"_I _hate to break up this lovely reunion, but we have to go soon. So can we talk now, Draco? I think it's necessary, and we need to sort things out. I have a lot of questions and right now, many things still don't make any sense whatsoever."

"Harry, since you're being ditched, let me show you to the television. There's this epic show where…" Blaise's voice drifted off as he guided Harry into his apartment and shut the door behind him, though Hermione knew Harry would attempt to grill the charming wizard on Draco.

As the door shut closed behind them, Hermione was left in the hall, Draco's gaze burning into the back of her skull. She finally turned to him and just looked at him for a minute, wondering how he could have changed so much, and yet stayed completely the same since she had last seen him. He was older, wiser, definitely. But there was still that arrogant air, that smug grin and playful smirk - the one that said he was amused. He was still as cool-tempered as ever though, that much she could tell, there was no throwing hexes or shouting loudly. None of the things he was so famed for in school. He had long said goodbye to those childish tendencies.

He was intelligent, and enjoyed discussing the intricacies of - well, of everything, as Hermione did. He enjoyed arguing about politics and deciphering ruins, he liked to read books and didn't mock her for it, he loved the capture of the criminal and not the adrenaline rush - like her, his favourite part of the investigations were the plans and mind-work that went into interrogations as was hers..

Hermione involuntarily felt nostalgia wash over her, and was overcame by the odd compulsion to run and hug Draco. She had missed him, and there was no way around it. As a partner, she missed how he matched her stride for stride. He was her equal and that had made them the amazing duo that they had been - she missed that. The way they effortlessly worked together. After they had worked out the original quirks of course - her hating him, he disliking her.

By the time they had reached the level of partners, they had already been training for four years - they had long brushed their former dislikes under the carpet and gotten on with things. Yes, they had fought - they had fought on nearly every decision made as they were opposites in reactions. He was cool, she was hot; he over-thought and she over-analysed; he was pessimistic, she was optimistic. It ranged. The fact still stood though: he had been her partner for three years, and nothing could change that.

"Oh Draco," she breathed, not quite sure what to say.

He simply nodded, and then opened his door widened, "Come on, we better get talking. There's only so long Potter can withstand Blaise." He walked in then, nothing bothering to look back and check if she was following.

Brushing the mild rudeness off, Hermione swallowed her pride and walked into the apartment. Though different to Blaise's in decoration, it had the same layout but more luxurious; she didn't know why she expected any less. Rich mahogany tables, Egyptian cotton curtains, flawless leather couches; his furniture alone cost more than Hermione's apartment.

They settled in his sitting room on the two armchairs respectively. The couch was left glaringly empty, a reminder of the distance they were putting between each other. The advantage was the fact that they were facing each other now though, and Hermione could read every flicker on his face - if he let her, that is.

Draco leaned back, propping his foot up on his other knee. "Yes, I need your help. I can't do this alone anymore as I haven't got the access that you have to victims, witnesses, suspects.. How did they know it was an Englishman?"

"He writes in English, and a witness spoke of how he ranted in English and not French." She responded automatically, then turned on him. "How did you know Astoria's killer came here, Draco?"

He winced a little, looking down at the table before his eyes flicked back to hers. "I got a letter - as did my parents. As did my Aunt."

Hermione leaned forward abruptly, "What?" She questioned, looking at him as if he were stupid. "Why the hell didn't you tell the Ministry? Instead of going off on some _stupid _hunch that has cost you _three _years of your life.. Three years of your life that you are _never _going to get back, Draco!"

"Oh, shut up, Hermione. Of course I knew the risks when I left, but an even bigger risk was giving it to the Ministry. I tried that before and it blew up in my face - or rather, Andromeda's."

"You're going to have to start at the beginning for any of this to make sense to me."

He sighed, "It started with her death. We had been receiving death threats for weeks, but they meant nothing - I didn't care all that much. My parents received them all the time, I had no reason to worry. Tragedy struck. When _she_ died, I had to show the Ministry, and so I gave them to-" he paused, and looked at her, "to Potter, actually. He made a public call for -"

Hermione jumped in, remembering what had happened now, but it being much clearer, "He made a public announcement for all free Death Eaters to be reviewed.."

"Three days later, Andromeda's house is blown up and Teddy has narrowly escaped grave danger. The words 'Traitor' were burned into the grass.." He maintained a cool composure with every word, but Hermione could see the guilt every time _she_ was mentioned. It wasn't his fault though, he needed to know that.

Hermione frowned and commented before he could continue, "Traitor? That wasn't in the records.. Otherwise, the French cases would have been connected much faster to-"

"I know. It was an impulsive and stupid act.. I cleaned it off. I don't know why, so don't bother asking. I was close to catching whoever it was though, they had a pattern in delivering the letters, and I nearly had him - but then he fled. That was a month after her death. My parents had already uprooted and moved to France, where the Malfoy lineage dates back to, and I needed to focus on my own life. But then, lo and behold, I get a letter from Father telling me that the killer has sent them another letter and that he's rounding up troops.."

"Your parents are still here?"

"Yeah, Father insists that he can take on whoever it is." Draco rolled his eyes.

"So you took off to France to find this man and get revenge - because you never really wanted to give up that hunt, and gave up your whole life to live in a great apartment and work in a mediocre bar behind a piano… And then enlisted Blaise for help, because you needed someone inside the Ministry to truly get anywhere. Also because you were probably lonely here. You've gotten no where and done nothing in three years, he's stopped sending you letters I assume, and is instead quietly - but making a bit of a statement about it - killing purebloods in France until he works his way to you."

She paused to catch her breath and then posed the burning question, "But why you?"

He shrugged, "It was never said. Look, you have to find him, and I want to find him. You have the opportunity now to do what's right and-"

"And find him, then leave it to you to kill him? I don't think so. You'll help me find him and then feel the satisfaction of seeing him being sent away."

Draco shook his head, "I'm not going to be satisfied at -"

"You're going to have to be, Draco," Hermione cut across, raising her voice above his. "I won't have you sinking to his level, and I certainly won't have you contaminating any more of this investigation."

"_Contaminating_?" Draco questioned, incredulously.

"You wiped clear the 'Traitor'. Would have made things a lot easier. I'm not saying you cant help, of course you will, but you're not going to be an auror, Draco."

He raised his head. "That's how it is."

It was then she realised they were both standing, and Hermione took several steps forward so that she could feel his breath on her face, and could look him squarely and strongly into those grey enigmatic orbs. She licked her lips. "That's how it is."

That was how Blaise found them when he burst through the door, Harry in tow. He stopped short and whistled loudly, laughing uproariously afterwards. "Wow, that didn't take long. Hey Potter, is it hot in here or is it just me? It usually is.."

Harry didn't respond, but instead send Hermione a 'what-are-you-doing, are-you-crazy?' kind of look. Hermione stepped back swiftly, bumping into the coffee table in process. Draco smirked, "Careful, now. We wouldn't want the auror injured."

"So genuine, it's touching."

Blaise plopped himself down on Draco's couch, delighting in the torment of his friend and Hermione. There was a look of pure entertainment on his face and delight lit up his eyes as he gazed up at them, "Did you get much 'talking' done?"

There it was. That wink.

"We did, thank you, Blaise." Hermione replied in a business-like manner. "Now, if you'll excuse us -"

"Oh you're excused, Harry and I will go to the pub or something. Who am I to stand in the way of your epic?"

"Epic." Draco rolled his eyes, "Find a new word, Blaise."

"Oh, touchy. Did we interrupt you too early?"

"Blaise!" Harry and Hermione reprimanded in unison, but he merely laughed.

Hermione picked up her jacket, all the whilst mumbling, "nearly thirty and still behaves as if he were eighteen.."

As she walked out the door, Blaise could be heard calling out, "Did you say something, Hermione?"

* * *

The French Ministry was much alike the British one, but far brighter and didn't use black half as much as their Ministry was inclined to. It was instead an appeasing beige that Hermione liked to admire when she was striding through their halls. Their statues were marble instead of gold, too, and overall gave a more modern and classy approach to Britain's strict and intimidating one. Hermione couldn't help the pang of longing though, she wished she were at her own. It just wasn't the same.

They were shepherd into the room outside the witness' almost immediately upon arrival. Hermione felt as if she hadn't stopped since she woke up, and was worried that an overload of information was becoming increasingly dangerous. She felt Harry touch her arm reassuringly, and then ask the French aurors the standard questions on the boy. Hermione looked at him through the charmed glass; he looked to be about seventeen, dark brown hair, brown eyes and had a long, drawn face that was taut and pale. He was examining his long fingers as he waited for them, seeming entirely bored as he sat there. Hermione supposed she would, too, after all the hours he had spent in there.

"Are we ready?" Harry asked, shaking her arm lightly.

Hermione nodded, "Of course. Does he speak English?"

"Lucky for us, very well."

"Let's get going then.. Hopefully it won't be too long, or bad."

The minute the door was opened, his head snapped up to see who was coming. He hadn't been approached yet for anything but food and was beginning to think people had forgotten about him. He hated how this made him feel as he had done something wrong - when _he _had been the one who had been wronged.

Hermione shot Harry a glance, and immediately, he started. "Logan, this is SA Hermione Granger, and I'm SA Harry Potter. We're from the British Ministry and just want to ask you a few questions, if that's okay?"

Logan nodded shakily, his eyes darting back and forth, "I-I feel like I'm being questioned."

Hermione's eyes softened, "That's not our intention, Logan, sorry. We just have to make sure we catch everything… It's important you answer all these questions as carefully as you can,"

"Okay."

Harry looked down at the report, "It says that you woke to your parents screaming?"

The words had an immediate impact upon the boy, and his face became as white as a sheet. His eyes were frightened and his bit his lip hard to reign in the tears. "Y-yes…My father was, uhh, how you say, gravely injured? Blood everywhere. 'Eet was not a spell... 'zere-'zere was an axe. 'Eet was-was 'oreeble." The stutter was not due to bad English Hermione recognised.

"And where was the man who did this?"

Logan jumped, as if he had forgotten they were sitting there. "I only saw 'zee back of 'im.. 'Zere was j-just 'zee writing on 'zee wall. 'Traitor'. Ca n'etait pas francais.. Bizzare."

"Je pense que il est anglais." Hermione responded with her little bit of French, unsure of whether her grammar or accent was even close to acceptable. He did not laugh though, which was always a good sign in France. However, Hermione realised with sadness, that he may not laugh for many a week to come.

"Your mother survived. Was she conscious when you found her?"

"I do not know, I rang 'zee police immediately." Logan responded sadly, his eyes glazing over with tears as they focused on the table. "She is in hospitable."

"You can go see her after Logan, we're nearly finished now. You've been great," Hermione smiled encouragingly. He really shouldn't have been put in a room that was so alike to an interrogation room - that wasn't fair, nor would she have allowed it if she were in charge. "But do you have any idea of who the man was?"

"Non. But I did not know any of my parents business, 'eet was not for me to know. My mother? She is better to ask. My parents were good people." He added then, feeling he had perhaps given the wrong impression of his parents. Both Hermione and Harry knew that he was just nervous, upset and tired after his turmoil - one that he wouldn't get over for a long time yet. It had only been five days since his fathers death and mothers near-death. The mother was also on the verge of death, but Hermione prayed that the boy was left with at least one of its parents. The cruelty otherwise would be truly unjust.

"We know. Thank you Logan, you've helped us out a lot. We'll be in touch." Harry said, shaking the boys hand. Hermione did the same, and then they left. She had a meeting with the French head of Defence and Crime now, which she was in no mood for - what she needed, was to go back to her hotel and collect her thoughts.

She and Harry needed to plan out what they knew, seeing as they suddenly knew so much but could so little with it.

As they left the room, Harry started talking, "We should talk to the mother soon, she's in critical condition so we need to go soon to avoid the risk of never getting to speak to her." He was aware of how heartless that may have sounded to the average person, but they were used to this, they saw it everyday and within most cases. When working in that field, you have to be objective and compartmentalise those messy emotions.

That was why Draco was so good at his job.

"I agree. Also, I've been thinking, we should probably talk to the Malfoy's and Andromeda at some point."

Harry frowned, "Andromeda?"

"Yeah, it seems she's just as part of this. We'll talk later - oh, and don't tell the Ministry about Draco just yet. We need to get our thoughts sorted before any of that. We're just recounting what happened with Logan and what we're doing next, which is going to see his mother."

"Roger that. Let's go," He opened the door and allowed her to go first, much to Hermione's chagrin. She hated being the one to enter first as all eyes flew to her immediately.

"Granger, Potter, what do you think?" Asked the department head, his French accent filtering through his English.

They exchanged looks, and Hermione was silently elected to respond. "Well, we think this could, potentially, be far worse than anyone first thought."

* * *

So there's a bit of a long chapter for you! Hope you enjoyed it, and I will try and update again soon. I enjoy writing this and so it will probably be updated fairly regularly :) Reviews are LOVED :D

xCNx


	5. Swallowed Up

A/N: Hi all, thank you for the reviews so far! :) They've been really fantastic, to be honest, and can't say thank you enough. I don't own "Never Forget You", and as a cover for this story, I don't and won't own any of the songs mentioned in future chapters. Or Harry Potter, obviously. Oh, and this is the formerly titled "Dark and Stormy Nights".. to be honest, that was just a title until I got a better feeling for the story. Anyway, I digress!  
Enjoy! :)

**

* * *

****Chapter Five: Swallowed Up**

_Well, we just got swallowed up  
But you love that I didn't forget you  
We just got swallowed up  
By the whole damn world_

_Whatcha thinking?Did you miss me?_

"_Never Forget You" - The Noisettes._

Hermione stood outside the room, once again looking through glass sadly. She couldn't count how many times she had done the same thing in the past, and this particular case was proving to be no different. She had, of course, learned to be objective as it came with the career, but every now and again, when she was feeling vulnerable and emotional, she connected the sadness of a case with reality. She was nothing but vulnerable and emotional at the moment with everything in such an upheaval, and so felt it twice fold.

Hermione sighed and shook her head, not willing to play pity for the family anymore. She had to become an auror again and immediately began psyching herself up for that as she awaited for Harry. He was meeting with the doctor to get an update on her condition, and to get access to her room. They needed to question her, and it was pertinent that they did so soon.

She wasn't the typical cliché in that she hated hospitals. Rather than looking on them where people held their last breaths, she saw them as a place where people took their first breath - a place that brought people back from the brink of afterlife and nursed them to their full health. Hospitals gave people something more valuable than anything else: life.

"Hermione," She didn't jump, as she had been expecting him for several minutes now. Hermione nodded at Harry and then turned to the doctor. "This is Doctor Spencer Red, who is looking after Maria Blanc."

They shook hands, exchanging the customary greetings and then he got down to business. Unsurprisingly from his name and appearance - white beard, round, red cheeks and green eyes with wrinkles engraved around them - he wasn't French, and his accent was in fact American. It certainly was different. "Ms. Blanc is not doing very well, I'm afraid. She is highly unstable and her health fluctuates on a daily basis. Unfortunately, there is some swelling in the skull, and her ribs and lungs are badly damaged from the strikes. She slips in and out of consciousness. We have managed to give her some relief for the moment to prepare her this, and to keep her awake also. I have to warn you, you won't be allowed much time as stress is detrimental to her right now."

Hermione nodded, looking back through the window of the woman's room with a frown, "And we need her to get back to her son." The doctor only shook his head in agreement, followed by him opening the door and leaving it open for Hermione and Harry.

"We go easy; simply try and find out the identity, and why they were attacked." Harry explained, but Hermione already knew it - they had gone over it many times at this point.

They approached the bed hastily and yet as calmly as they possibly could so not to distress anyone. Hermione was not unnerved by what she saw - she was quite used to these kind of sights, sadly - but she did feel sympathetic towards the boy she had been talking to not twenty-four hours ago. His mother looked incredibly week, with drips and various wires connected to her veins, just trying to keep her alive. Never mind healthy. Her hair was scraggly, knotty and in bad shape - it seemed discoloured, but that could have been Hermione's imagination. Her skin was as white as the bed sheets and she looked frailer than the rickety old hospital beds.

"Ms. Blanc? I'm SA Hermione Granger, and this is SA Harry Potter. We're from the British Ministry, here to investigate your attack. We understand you're in a lot of pain right now, and would just like you to answer some questions from you. Do you know who did this to you?"

She pulled the breathing apparatus down from her face, and breathing appeared to be a struggle for her. Her chest heaved and croaked unhealthily, and when she spoke, her voice was scratchy, throaty and but a whisper. "Non.. Mais il nous a envoyé des lettres,"

Hermione looked to the doctor in askance, wondering what she had said. She hadn't been aware that the woman couldn't speak English, but then wondered how she had understood them. "Mr. Red, how do-"

"She has very, very broken English, only known by her son teaching her. It is better that she talks to you in French, though will be able to understand some of your English. I will translate for you - 'he sent her letters' ... Does that make sense?"

Harry sent her a significant look, "A lot. Maria, did you reply to his letters?"

"Non."

Hermione then braced herself, knowing that this was a touchy question but she had to ask it. It was their only chance and she needed to garner a better knowledge of what this killer was like and how he targeted his victims. "I don't want to bring up bad memories Maria, but could you tell us who he attacked originally and why you were his target?"

"M-My husband," She cried, her voice turning high and screechy as she strained to get up. "Je dois voir mon mari! Et mon fils, tout seul," she sobbed, tears running freely down her face, and it chest moving up and down rapidly. _(I must see my husband! And my son, all alone,)_

"I think that's enough now," Spencer objected, calling the nurse and beginning to usher the two Aurors out the door. As they were exiting, feeling only more lost, Maria shouted out, "Mon armoire, mon amoire," before she collapsed into a fit of tears and torment again.

Once outside, the doctor was instantly busy and being assailed with various nurses and other doctors and paged for patients. Hermione stopped him abruptly, asking for a translation on all that she had said. "She said 'my wardrobe' and then crying about her husband and son. I'm sorry, I have to go. Busy." He then rushed off, his pager ringing loudly behind him.

There was a small silence in which they digested this information, "Her wardrobe? Why, that makes little to no sense at all.."

Hermione turned over her watch, which had slipped to the back of her hand, and saw that it was not evening time, despite she feeling like it were the night. She had that familiar emotionally drained feeling that made her want to fall into bed and sleep for a thousand years. It had been a long day, with her and Harry meeting with both the British and French Ministry's to discuss the case so far, and revealed about Draco Malfoy's information - but not that it had come from him, rather from an unknown source.

Hermione and Harry apparated back to their hotel - well, the laneway of their hotel. It was a muggle hotel and so magic had to always be kept under the radar. That was somewhat of a pain, but Hermione enjoyed staying in muggle places, the simplicity and yet intricacies of their lives were different and yet so alike hers. She enjoyed mixing the two civilisations and feeling apart of both. Although she was far more submerged in the wizarding world than the muggle one now. Their technology was incredibly advanced, and she was impressed daily by the leaps and bounds they made without magic. She wondered what all prejudiced purebloods would think if they saw just how capable and intelligent muggles were - that they were no different from wizards except from the absence of magic in their veins. She sighed and dismissed the futile thoughts.

"What do you think the wardrobe was all about?" Harry asked suddenly, breaking the amicable silence between them. They were in the lift on the way to their room, enjoying the absolute quiet of the small space. Harry was leaning back against the wall across from her, staring up at the ceiling as they moved along. Hermione clasped her hands in front of her, thinking intently.

"I'm not sure. We should definitely go to the residence this evening and investigate; it could blow the case wide open."

He nodded, "Hopefully. I don't want to chase anymore red herrings or loose ends.."

"Strangely enough, I don't think we'll have much more of the red herrings." She said enigmatically, and Harry gave her an odd look. She really had no basis for what she was saying, or logic, which was strange for her. She usually didn't go on hunches or feelings, but Harry concluded that this case was an entirely different kettle of fish.

* * *

Harry opened the door mechanically, simply going through the motions. His thoughts were too caught up in what they had to do next, and attempting in vain to draw up a suspect list in his mind. It was still too early though and he had little to no names on that list. They had too much of a _lack _of information. He threw his coat on the couch, as he always did when he entered the room, and glanced around to see if anything had changed. The room was noticeably cleaner - and he saw that the maid had come and gone in the space of time that they had been in the hospital. He frowned; they should really remember to put the 'no maid' sign out, it could be very dangerous if a maid found something magical in the room.

"Hello?" someone's voice rang through the room, and Harry and Hermione looked to each other in confusion. She cocked her head, silently asking him if the voice was who she thought it was..

"I think so?" Harry replied, a grin beginning to break out. He rushed to the fireplace in his room, checking the floo. He laughed upon sight of his friends head, delighted to see a friendly and familiar face. Ron smiled goofily from his position in the fire, his expression making Harry fear he was about to jump out of the fireplace.

Hermione arrived in then, and a smile bloomed across her face, too. She then exclaimed happily, "Ron!"

Though their friendship had gone through rough patches, particularly after their break-up, she and Ron got past their differences as they did when they were teenagers. She missed the closeness and time they used to have together, they rarely saw each other as of late. He was busy with career and family, and Hermione was… Hermione was busy with career.

"Well don't you two look happy to see me. Luna almost had me convinced that when I floo'd you abruptly I'd be met with an unpleasant sight."

"Unpleasant?" Hermione questioned, puzzled.

Ron's face screwed up in mild disgust, "Don't make me go into detail."

Realisation dawned upon Hermione, and she reached her hand out as if to hit him. "You're lucky you're in the fireplace," she replied, but it was all in jest.

Harry rolled his eyes, "If something were going on, you'd know about it. Now, what are you here for?"

"I can't just come and say hello to my two best friends that I haven't seen in yonks?"

"Please, Ron. You'd be happy to greet us every two months if it meant you'd be spending the rest of the time with Luna."

His face became goofy again, "She is pretty great, if I do say so myself."

Hermione's heart softened at Ron's words, feeling slightly mushy on the inside listening to him talk about her and watching his face light up. Hermione, years ago, would have never believed Ron could be so sentimental and romantic as he was with Luna. It was miraculous, really - but all so logical at the same time. Contradictory but true. Luna brought out a side in Ron that Hermione had been so sure didn't exist. A side that had the emotional range of a _table_ spoon and that was sensitive and sympathetic at times.

Harry grinned, "She is, mate. Now go on and ask us the favour you're dying to ask.."

"How'd you know?" Ron asked, downcast.

Hermione laughed, "You're only this pleasant when you want something!"

Ron, though in a brilliant mood, managed throw his eyes heavenward. "I'll ignore that. I just wanted to ask you two to come to the Burrow tonight - just for a few hours!"

Hermione glanced at Harry, who was apprehensively looking back at her. He was clearly giving her the reigns to handle this one and Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes, exasperated. "Ron, we're on the job.. You know we can't aba-"

"Please? This is really important. It's important to me that you're there…" There was a pause. "You know I've never asked you to leave your job before like this, and I wouldn't ordinarily. I _am _an auror, I know what the rules are. But I know you're not monitored closely, and ask you just this once, to visit the burrow tonight for dinner? I barely see you two and it would honestly mean a lot to me."

Hermione looked into Ron's pleading gaze, so sincere and honest as he had claimed, feeling his desperation herself. She didn't know why he was so insistent on them coming, but she could hardly refuse him with that sort of speech. It was frowned upon, but not against protocol, to take break during a job. She supposed they could visit Andromeda while in England for the night, and tie it back to the investigation. She was sure there would be no harm done then. Yes, they could go to the burrow dinner, stay in their respective houses, and then visit Andromeda in the morning. A short journey back to France would follow; it wouldn't take long.

Harry seemed to read her thoughts, "How could we refuse that?"

Ron's smile lit up the room and his eyes picked up a Dumbledore-esque sparkle, "Brilliant! I'll tell Mum you're coming, she'll be delighted. You two are never around the burrow anymore… We might have started to think you were avoiding us," Ron winked, well aware of Ginny and Harry's predicament. "I'll see you two later then." He saluted them, and was then gone. Leaving his two best friends in a dark room, once again left alone with their thoughts and each other.

After several moments, Hermione spoke, "We probably shouldn't have done that."

"Merlin, no. Ginny's going to be awful," he groaned, putting his hands to his face. "And Molly…"

"I can't fathom why she's so pushed on _us _having children."

"And Luna.." Harry continued.

"I can't fathom why she's so adamant that you and I are together."

"…. And of course there's the whole Malfoy and Zabini debacle to explain," He ended, looking tormented at the prospect of the dinner.

"Oh, we won't be telling them that!" Hermione responded, as if it were a truly ludicrous idea. Hermione smoothened out her trousers as she stood, wiping the small patches of soot off, "And we're being far too dramatic. The dinner will be fine. Now, let's go to the house - we have a wardrobe to search, non?"

He allowed a small smile and accepted her extended hand to help him up, "Wonderful French there, Hermione."

"What can I say?" She laughed, "I do try."

* * *

The atmosphere was light, as per normal. She could sense it from outside the door; the overwhelmingly happy and smiling attitudes and views of the people inside. By all means, it was a wonderful thing, such positivitity and happiness, but sometimes on a case such as this, it was bringing Hermione further down more than anything else.

She and Harry were standing at the door, he rapping loudly on it. She could hear the roaring laughter of Bill, the delicate chuckle of Fleur accompanying it; the playing noises of the kids - sound effects of planes crashing into couches and etc; Luna's absent humming; Ron's complaints to his mother about food; and she could even hear Molly bustling about, reprimanding certain individuals for misbehaving and tidying as she moved along. She must have been waiting for them to start dinner.

Hermione looked over at Harry and frowned, placing her hand over his which was still banging against the door. "Maybe we should just go in? When was the last time we knocked?"

"I just felt more comfortable with knocking. Gives me time to prepare myself." He replied awkwardly, and Hermione was thoroughly amused by the dread he felt at the prospect of seeing a certain redhead. "Ladies first, by all means."

"Coward," She replied, though joking and he only grinned. Drawing in a breath, Hermione placed her hand on the knob and pushed open the large door easily. It was as busy as it always had been - as packed as it had always been. She smiled at the sight of such companionship and joy, and heard Harry close the door softly behind them. The moment it hit the lock again, the room stilled and looked towards them.

Molly was the first to speak, "Oh Harry, Hermione! It has been too long, dears, far too long!" She enveloped them both in a bone-crushing hug that left them feeling guilty for staying away for so long. Neither expected welcomes like this.

_They don't hear the door being banged down, but a small noise as it's being shut attracts the whole rooms attention… _Harry thought bemusedly.

Harry and Hermione soon found themselves in a circle of chatter and hugs, celebratory reunions of days long gone where they hadn't kept in touch. Hermione vowed never to stay away for that long again - it wasn't needed and certainly had no benefit to anyone. She couldn't help but smile along with everyone else and realised that this was exactly what she needed during this case: happiness. People who felt not a care in the world and embraced those around them with all that they had. They lived in the present for the most part, and that warmed her heart. The death of Fred, though still lingered with them of course, didn't taint their lives forever and they had begun to move on.

"Now that they're here - took your time, by the way - let's eat!" Ron announced, and Hermione noticed an extra bounce in his step, an added high note to his vote, a lighter blue illuminating his eyes. She was confused but amused nonetheless, once again feeling that warmth of family and close relations. Hermione hadn't thought she had missed them this much. She had probably blocked it out for so long that it hadn't come into the equation.

Once seated - Hermione wedged between Ron and Harry - they all dug into food. It was as delicious as Hermione remembered, if not more, with many dishes and delicacies lined up the middle of the table for those seated to help themselves. It certainly was a full table - it seemed as though Ron had gathered everyone he could for this weeks burrow meal. There was Bill and Fleur, along with their two children Victoire and Dominique of course; Charlie on his lonesome, still the bachelor he had always been, though rumours of a girlfriend were on fire; Percy, who sat reasonably relaxed - as relaxed as Percy could be - next to his daughter Holly, with his wife Audrey on the other side of her; George and Katie Bell occupied the next two seats; there was then Luna and Ron, who sat next to Harry and Hermione. Ginny sat as far from Harry as possible, but Hermione got the feeling that that wasn't by choice. She made a mental note to talk to her friend; they had once been very close and she was ashamed to have let that disappear with Ginny and Harry's relationship.

Ginny looked great. She appeared older and somehow wiser, not shooting Harry any disparaging looks, or Hermione for that matter. Her red hair, which had once been gloriously long, was now cropped to just above her shoulders and swished dramatically in the air as she talked animatedly. It suited her and definitely gave her an older look.

As they finished up their meals, Ron stood. No one else noticed and instead continued to talk, laugh and eat what was left of their meals. Ron had always been one to finish first, after all. Fleur looked to be struggling with getting the young Dominique to eat her broccoli. The young, blonde, vivacious little girl shook her head adamantly as Fleur rather pathetically attempted to coerce her child into eating some greens. Bill found it hard to hide his amusement.

Ron tapped on his glass loudly, calling the attention from everyone sitting at the table. "Oi, listen up you lot!" He announced ensuring that every single person at the table was paying attention, including the young ones who had as much an idea of what was going on as the adults. Holly clapped spontaneously and Audrey made shushing sounds, despite her smiling at her daughter.

Luna clasped Ron's hand, sending him an adoring gaze that was so unlike the Luna Hermione knew. She was so much more lucid. "Luna and I have an announcement to make."

She was absently aware of Molly sucking in a breath, and herself leaning further forward on the chair, causing Harry to pull her back so he could still see Ron. Hermione sent him an apologetic glance.

"I'm delighted to tell you that the next Weasley bun is in the oven!" He told them with his customary goofy smile, and Hermione couldn't help but chuckle quietly at his phraseology. Luna outright laughed, and Molly rushed around from her seat to the two to give them a hug. After the initial shock, joy overcame everyone and a thunderous applause echoed through the small kitchen. Hermione stood, smacking her hands together with a great vigour as she awaited her turn to hug the prospective parents.

She and Harry both dived for Ron, Harry hugging him much more 'manlier' than Hermione had. Hermione screeched loudly as she hugged him, wondering when he had grown up - and how he had done so before both Harry and Hermione. "Oh Ron, I'm so happy for you!"

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, and she pushed them back. Ron frowned, scanning her eyes, "Hermione, what's wrong?"

She smacked his shoulder, "Nothings wrong, you idiot. I'm just so _happy _for you. My best friend is going to be a Dad," she told him softly, throwing her arms around him tightly again.

"I know, it's weird, isn't it?"

"But so natural at the same time." Hermione assured him, giving him a kiss on the cheek, "You will be a great Dad, Ronald Weasley." She looked up at him and put her hand on his cheek, her eyes welling involuntarily again as she recognised the truth that was sitting in front of her. In a whisper, she told him, "I've missed you."

He stared at her, taking in his best girl friend who had changed more than he had been aware of over the past couple of years - he had been wrapped up in his own relationship. But those were the words he had been waiting and wanting to hear; he didn't want to be left behind, to feel as if their friendship was gone. She was only human, his Hermione, and she had faults and insecurities, too. It was like seeing her for the first time in some ways, but in others, he had known all of this. Above all, he could finally admit that although his life with Luna as amazing, and his job gave him a great sense of fulfilment, and his friendship with Harry was intact and strong- _he _missed her, too. He gave her a grin, "Ditto," And tried to convey with his eyes what he couldn't with words. Hermione laughed and then turned to his wife.

During this time, Harry had been congratulating Luna, who was only three months along and not showing whatsoever yet. Hermione thought she was glowing already, and launched herself - gently, of course - at her.

"Oh Luna, you really are wonderful!" How could Hermione not get soaked up in the delight of the moment, after all?

She looked around and saw that Molly also had tears in her eyes, saying something to Arthur about her baby growing up. Ron was jokingly telling George to get a move on in the reproductive area, to which he replied with, "I like the practicing more for now, I'm afraid, Ronnie." He hugged his brother tightly though, and Hermione was reminded of the absolute tragedy of his brother dying.

Despite her horrid start to the day, and her dread in going to the burrow, Hermione now couldn't believe she had been hesitant in the first place. These people were her family, and she couldn't forget that. She couldn't forget those who had been important to her and still should be - and that made her think of Draco.

She felt herself tearing up again as she realised that Ron was really growing up, and far quicker than she. He was on the road to complete adulthood, while she still felt like she had just left Hogwarts. She couldn't help but feel pride in being friend with the person he had grown into; a good man, capable of shining light into the darkest days and remaining happy despite all that had happened to him.

She saw Harry nod to her, and recognised sadly that the same could not be said for she and Harry.

* * *

As some of you may have noticed - or not? Haha - I left out the part of the wardrobe. They did go, I just opted not to write about it. It simply would have been too short of a passage so I would have had to compensate but angst-ing it up. I'm aware this strays from the main line of plot, but it all ties in, and I felt it important to show Hermione's connections to the Weasley's and their current situation. I'm not done with this scene yet, by the way, I'm sure many will be glad to see Ginny's appearance. (Ally leigh ;))  
Oh, and is there any special requests? Anything people would like to see, see more of, see less of? I'm afraid "Dramione" cannot be the answer to any of those questions though ;) sorry, folks! haha

Also, I've planned out all chapters and it should be around eleven chapters. Dramione is, once again, not central to the plot but will occur and not at the pace of FH and will develop very differently also.

Anyway, hope you liked this longer chapter and I'll try and get the next one out soon. Thanks for reading :)

xCNx


	6. If The Chain Is On Your Door

A/N: Bonjour - welcome to the longest chapter yet! Hope you all enjoy. I still have to get around to replying to some reviews, and will tomorrow, no worries. Thanks again everyone who reviewed :) Now, there is a One Tree Hill line in here ... if someone can get it, I'll grant them a character name OR alternatively, if they make a request of something/someone they would like to see I'll do it! If it's reasonable and coincides with the story, of course :L Anyway, enjoy! Title really only refers to one part of this.

* * *

**Chapter Six: If The Chain Is On Your Door.**

_Baby this is wishful thinking,_  
_Probably mindless dreaming_  
_If we loved again I swear I'd love you right_

_I'd go back in time and change it but I can't._  
_So if the chain is on your door, I understand._

_"Back to December" - Taylor Swift._

As dinner ended and the commotion of Ron's announcement died down, the Weasley's began to disperse into the sitting room, while some remained in the kitchen. Everyone was jubilant and joyous, with the news of another Weasley on the way brightening everyone's day. Hermione herself couldn't be happier for her best friend, and looked eagerly forward to the due date when she would get to meet her niece or nephew. Obviously not biologically, but Ron's children would be as good as her niece or nephews. He was her brother in all but blood, and she figured it was the same for Harry - although their bond was one more of utmost trust and faith and friendship, whereas Ron was more like a bickering sibling.

She watched Ron and Luna from her seat in the kitchen, chatting closely as they smiled brightly. Neither of them looked like they had a smidgen of worry in the world - which of course, was not true, everyone had their worries but it was the fact that in every moment she watched them, their appearances convinced her that all their worries paled in comparison to the love and happiness they had together. She wanted that so badly, Hermione realised. She wanted that unconditional love that was prized above all else, that was the most sought and desired of all.

"Oh no… Quick, pretend we're deep in conversation - don't give me that look!" Harry turned to her and leaned in, forcing a thoughtful expression onto his face and spouting some rubbish about elections and work.

Hermione struggled to keep her face neutral, refusing to show her amusement, nor to completely fall in line with Harry and pretend to be occupied. He had drawn her from her thoughts and she was slightly disgruntled. Not to mention the fact that it was ludicrous! He should be able to handle this himself.

"Harry, could I talk to you for a minute?" Hermione barely restrained her smirk as Harry's shoulders visibly deflated. He was cut-off mid-sentence and the annoyance was palpable, even if it was artificial.

He turned to the red-head, a pleading look deigning his face, "Couldn't you just tell me now, Ginny?"

The girl in question rolled her eyes, and put her hands on her hips - reminding Hermione frighteningly of Molly Weasley. She hoped Ginny wouldn't become a carbon copy of her mother, because Merlin knew Molly got on her nerves sometimes. But bless, she was good at heart. Hermione raised a brow at Ginny, who was making eye contact with her for some reason. Her brown eyes were narrowed, though she gave off the impression that she just wanted a civilised conversation. "Harry, please."

He sighed and Hermione sensed his frustration, "I'm _sick _of talking. Every time I see you it's something else, some fight, some plea, some reason. It's always something nonsensical, and _always _something that leaves me feeling unpleasant. Say whatever you have to say here please, because I don't want to leave the burrow feeling awful again."

She sniffed, as if to cover her humility, and pushed her hair back. "I wasn't aware you felt that way." He made an incredulous noise, but didn't reply. "I know - believe me, I do - that I've messed this up beyond repair, but I honestly have grown over the time you've been in France. I've worked, socialised, wised-up - I'm not the same girl. Just give us another chance, Harry and I can promise you that this time will be different."

Harry shook his head, his eyes sad, "I don't think I can, Ginny." he told her softly.

Surprise was written all over her face, and she took a step back. Frowning, Ginny shook her head in disbelief - Harry always took her back. She had to get another chance, especially since this time she really meant it. Hermione could see the internal battle raging to plea with him in desperation, and to walk away with her dignity.

In the end, she went for the balanced choice of both.

"I understand your decision," Ginny nodded slowly, her mind processing everything still. "but I think you know deep down that this isn't want you want. You _love _me Harry, and I love you. We're meant to be, and people who are meant to be always find their way."

Harry stood, unable to sit when such conflicting emotions were racing through him - he knew exactly what his head was screaming at him and begging from him, but he wasn't so sure what his heart was saying. Harry followed his heart, not his head. Perhaps it was time to finally listen to what his head was saying - after all, it would have saved him a few condolences in the past. If he thought of Ginny's relationship as a condolence, then clearly it was going no where.

Harry began to walk backwards, until Hermione was sitting in between of the two of them. She was powerless to look away; her eyes couldn't move away from the monumental closure of the on-going epic that was Ginny and Harry. Except, epic was more of an illusion, and train-wreck was more of an accuracy. "Ginny…" He took a long pause, unable to find the correct words. He then decided that simplicity was needed, and no amount of fluffing or speeches would change what he was saying. "I don't love you."

Hermione noted that he didn't say it harshly, nor with the intention of ripping her apart, but rather sadly and with an air of finalisation. He threw his hands up helplessly afterwards, looking a little lost and desperate for her to respond.

A few months ago, when Harry last broke it off, Ginny had thrown china at him. She had hexed him, and jinxed him, and promised him that she would get revenge. She had begged her mother to talk to him, she had coerced Ron into saying something, she had arrived unannounced to his workplace - where things rapidly deteriorated again and she ended up destroying his office and becoming banned from the auror department - and she had screamed and cried all at once. At each of those occurrences, there was screaming, and crying.

Hermione was impressed, and finally the remark of her growing sunk in - as this time, Ginny simply nodded. She appeared close to tears, but refused to release them, and instead nodded slowly for two minutes. It was clear she was lost for words, and she seemed knocked for any sort of communication. Hermione was overwhelmed with the urge to hug her.

Despite all her new-found maturity, she was still the young, baby Ginny Hermione had known for many years. The girl who fought to maintain a tough exterior but secretly crumbled with the harshness of the world, the girl who approached _her _for boy help, the girl who had been her best friends girlfriend for many years and the first girl Hermione ever had as a friend, and still the only one Hermione would ever consider a semblance of a girl friend.

And now, that same girl, was standing in front of her, shoulder studiously trying to remain still and tears being refused release - confusion and vulnerability had settled into her beautiful features, and she looked like the little girl again. Hermione stood and silently walked towards her.

She held out her arms then, and Ginny sent her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Hermione." She whispered, hugging her tightly, and whispering the words that broke Hermione's heart, "I've missed you."

She hadn't realised how long she'd been away - nor just how much she had neglected the people that once meant the world to her. Harry watched forlornly, afraid to move, and terrified to say anything.

Ginny pulled back from Hermione and nodded to him, not finding the words to explain how she felt about what he said. She just wanted to signal peace.

He returned the gesture. _Thank god that was over, _he thought wryly.

* * *

Hermione sipped her take-away coffee the next morning, hesitantly so not to burn her tongue, listening absently to Harry rant on about Andromeda. She had never told him about being attacked, and it had never been publicised, hence he had never known about it. Hermione should have suspected such a reaction when the told him - although she would have understated everything had she expected this. He had been ranting for a full twenty minutes now, since they had left the coffee shop he hadn't stopped. They had decided to walk to Andromeda's so that they could fully discuss the case, but Harry instead took up the time giving out. He was so dramatic sometimes.

She supposed he should have been made aware of the attack on Andromeda, but the woman evidently didn't want Harry to worry - Hermione could see she had good reason. Seeing Andromeda's large, yet humble, four bedroom detached in the distance, she nudged Harry, "We're here now. Do stop complaining," she teased.

Harry closed his mouth promptly. "I'm just offended and hurt that I wasn't told.. I'll stop now. Come on, let's get a better idea of what happened that night."

It was a lovely home, that immediately made you feel welcome and gave a sense of warmth that invaded your senses the moment you stepped onto the porch. It was a green house, curiously, a light green that looked radiant in the sunlight of the day. There were flowers lined along the porch that were very well cared for, judging by the healthy bright colours they sported. Two of the upstairs windows were open, and Hermione could see the white, airy curtains blowing softly with the light breeze. It was a picture perfect household, and Hermione could barely imagine the disaster that struck. There was no evidence of the attack and furthermore, there was not one shred of darkness, angst or a sign of sorrow that indicated her husband and daughter had died. She was a woman to be admired, someone Hermione would always think of with great respect.

Harry knocked on the door softly. It was but a minute before Andromeda answered, a broad smile on her face when she saw who it was. They had told her they were coming around on business, but it was clear that Andromeda expected them to stay for quite a bit.

She had an apron on and there was an incredibly alluring smell of freshly baked goods from the kitchen - so alluring, that Hermione almost stepped inside to seek out the source.

Instead, she returned the smile, "Andromeda, it's so good to see you," She held out her hand for her to take, but the older woman ignored it and gave her a warm hug. Hermione was both embarrassed and touched.

"You too, Hermione. It's been too long," How many times had Hermione heard that over the last week? "And Harry! Oh, how lovely to see you again. Teddy's missed you since last time," She laughed, giving him a hug, too. It wasn't a hug like Molly's; no bone-crushing, but rather a warm and gentle embrace.

Harry laughed, "I can't wait to see him, where is he now?"

"Oh, he's at a friends." She paused, looking between the two of them, "I knew you had to talk seriously with me, so I told him to come back in an hour."

Hermione heard the question in the woman's voice and nodded, "An hour is plenty. We hate to unearth bad memories, but it's vital that we hear about what happened."

"That's quite alright. Now, come on in, why are we standing on the porch!" she chuckled, holding the door open for Harry and Hermione.

* * *

"Is that okay?" She asked, watching Harry and Hermione's expressions as they tasted their second coffee of the day. They were seated together on a couch, directly across from an armchair in which Andromeda resided. Hermione was struck by how young she managed to look - although she was aware that the natural beauty helped. She knew from newspaper pictures that Narcissa looked nothing of her age either, and reasoned that it must be in the genes.

Andromeda must have dyed her hair, as there was not a grey strand in her silky, black locks. Her hair was short, only reaching the nape of her neck but it suited her remarkably well. Her blue eyes popped against the dark strands and pale skin, and Hermione was reminded strangely of Bellatrix, and how beautiful she must have been before darkness tainted her. Hermione shook her head to focus herself and glanced down at her coffee, aware that Andromeda was watching them expectantly.

Harry answered first, "Great stuff, Andromeda. Much better than that awful coffee we bought this morning!"

She looked happy with that, "Thank you, I'm glad. And how many times must I ask you to call me Andy, Harry? Andromeda is much too long and formal."

Hermione felt they were letting things get away from them now, they were here on a business trip, not a social get-together. "Andromeda, do you mind if we ask you a few questions now?"

She looked rather taken aback by the abrupt change in subject, but shook her head nonetheless, "Not at all."

Harry nodded for her to start. "What time would you say the attacker broke in?"

Andromeda shifted uneasily, "I can't be sure. I was in bed, though. Didn't hear a word. It must have been after two o'clock - the explosion woke me at four. It was in Teddy's room, would you believe? What kind of monster would do that?" She went silent. "The kind that socialised with my sister." A sombre mood settled all around, but just as it was getting comfortable, the sombreness vanished with her reassuring smile and her return to upbeat attitude, "I was lucky I got to Teddy before he was injured. Before it went off, a large ringing sound alerted me and I was able to reach him and we had just gotten outside the room when-when it exploded. I shielded him, of course, but he was terrified." Andromeda shook her head, looking down at her tea cup, her hands shifting around it. "Three years ago and he still has nightmares. Anyway, as you know, when we finally made it outside, traitor was burnt into the grass. It shouldn't have shocked me, I suppose - but I thought all of these awful, stupid pureblood antics were behind me. I called the first person that could help me, and that was my nephew."

Harry nodded, watching their quill write furiously with each word that the Tonks (nee Black) said. "You received letters beforehand?"

"Yes, but I didn't think much of it. It's rather non-threatening after all we've been through, isn't it? One would think the opposite; given all that we've been through, we should be more vigilant. But I simply waved it off. Silly of me, but there you go..."

"He left the country," Hermione informed her, feeling that she had to ensure the woman that there was no chance he would strike again soon. "You don't need to worry. May we see the letters?"

A blush ran across her cheeks and she avoided their eyes, and Hermione got the distinct impression that she wasn't going to like what Andromeda was about to say. "I-I burnt them.. I didn't want any reminders of what had happened. And Teddy's getting older, I didn't want him finding threatening letters like that. It would petrify my poor boy. And it was _a _letter."

Hermione felt her heart sink and closed her eyes in defeat and disappointment, cursing the fact that Draco had not taken it upon himself to keep Andromeda's letters. She could hear Harry sigh heavily, the disappointment hitting him also.

Something struck Hermione then, "Just one letter?"

"Yes, and it was a rant about how I'm filthy, and a traitor, and generally a different way of saying those things. It was nothing I didn't once get from my own family," She laughed, though Hermione could tell it was only to lift the new dissatisfied aura's of Harry and Hermione.

Harry changed the thread of topic then, "You say it was a bomb?"

"Well, yes. I'm quite educated on muggles and their devices, and this was a bomb. According to Draco, a very simple one that wasn't very well made - that's why I had time to get out, thank god."

"And you're positive it wasn't a spell?" Hermione questioned, frowning deeply as her thoughts began to race.

"Oh definitely, there was no one around to cast the spell! I also saw the remains of the bomb before it was destroyed."

Harry exchanged a look with Hermione, "Alright, well that's I-"

"Harry!" A delighted cry rang out in the spacious sitting room, and it was music to Harry's ears - and Hermione's, truthfully. A child is enough to brighten any day. The young boy ran towards Harry, throwing his arms around his waist and squeezing tightly. Hermione could see his eyes clenching shut as he hugged his godfather with all his might. Teddy's hair was an adorable shade of light brown today, but Hermione wasn't sure what that meant. She saw a bright smile adorning Harry's face and his green eyes lit up like the fourth of July. He lightly ruffled his hair, "How are you, buddy?"

"I'm good! I got to go play in Sean's and he showed me his lego, cause he thought his lego was better than mine - but I still think mine is better! Do you wanna' see my lego, Harry? It's so much better than Sean's but don't tell him that because I told him his was cool 'cause I didn't wanna' embarrass him or anything 'cause he's my bestest friend and his lego wasn't that bad but it didn't move like mine 'cause it wasn't magical. Do you wanna' see my lego, Harry?"

The three adults laughed as Harry caught up with Teddy's words, and Hermione marvelled at the youth's ability to talk without stopping for so long, without taking a single breath to keep up. Teddy then directed his gaze to Hermione, "'Mione! I haven't seen you in _so_ long is Crookshanks okay after his operation?" His eyes were soft, and Hermione bent down to his level, though he was quite tall for his age.

"He's a little sick, but he'll be fine. How's _your _cat?"

He gave her a toothy grin, "She's getting so fat that nana had to put her on a diet! Isn't that silly? A cat on a diet!" He told her, as it was the most unbelievable thing he'd ever had. Which, granted, it was probably was, bless him.

"That is so silly, Nana!" Hermione told Andromeda, and was touched by the adoration on the old woman's face.

"That cat was getting too fat!" She chortled.

"Sorry Andromeda, didn't mean to let him get so far ahead," a voice said from the door, "Oh! Sorry, I didn't know you still had company. I didn't know it was Harry and Hermione, either," She laughed.

Hermione gasped, "Penelope Clearwater?"

"One and the same." She smiled, "It's great to see you two having a nice chat. We never really knew each other, but I was always hoping you would find happiness after all you did in the war."

Harry managed a smile, as he hated when people said things like that though he knew they were only trying to be nice, "Thanks."

"Well, we better be going!" Hermione announced, sending Teddy an apologetic glance.

"Do you have to?" He asked sadly, his doe-eyes peering up into hers.

"Oh don't give me that look, you." Hermione pinched his nose jokingly and sent Harry a look that said they had to go.

He sighed, "Come here, pal," Harry bent down and hugged the boy tightly, "I'll be home for good soon, and we'll go out every weekend!"

"Every weekend?" The boy exclaimed, his eyes wide as saucers and his smile broad.

"Yep, and we'll have ice-cream and watch x-men," Harry winked, knowing Teddy was one of the few wizard kids who knew what a television was and had the privilege of owning one in his house.

"Yaayy!" He cheered, punching his hand into the air joyously. "I can't wait! And can we play tricks on the neighbours again Harry? Can we?"

Harry chuckled nervously at Hermione's stern expression, "Heh, we'll see…"

* * *

It was, as usual, a short trip back to France but unusually, Hermione felt energised after her short break home. She had gotten to sleep in her own bed, which was terribly miserable after such a long period of no one sleeping in it, and got to see all her friends and family. Minus her parents, who she still had to pay a well overdue visit to. Hermione was extremely glad that she had taken the trip to the Burrow, as it had given her the strength to keep going in her mission and given her back the energy she had lost. She would visit far more often, Hermione promised herself, and she would make sure she saw Teddy more as well. The poor boy had no parents and Hermione was determined to ensure he had enough parental figures growing up to compensate that. There was no compensating parents, she knew, but she had to try - she had to make sure he felt as loved as anyone else.

Hermione looked to her side and saw Harry deep in thought, knowing that his thoughts were along the same line as hers. After talking to Andromeda about the attack, there was a curious pattern to their cases and a distinct signature had emerged because of it. What surprised her, however, was that Harry and Hermione had yet to receive any form of contact - that this killer had not contacted them with taunts or to gloat. Although, he seemed the avenger type anyway, and so he wasn't exactly the type to seek out the authorities.

For whatever reason, this person was targeting purebloods and proclaiming them as traitors - but why? Andromeda was an obvious choice, she had abandoned her families strict pureblood beliefs and superiority. The Malfoy's were also a likely choice, having switched sides during the war and being one of the factors that guaranteed the lights success. But the rest of the families? They were scattered and the only link between them all was the fact that they were pureblood.

Before they went to England, Harry and Hermione had taken a short trip to the now filthy and neglected house of Maria and her son. It hadn't taken long to find the wardrobe she had been talking of, and in the second drawer of that wardrobe, had been several letters addressed to the family. It appeared that the killer had been demanding they join in his fight of wiping out the insignificant and worthless races; anyone other than the purebloods. He stated clearly the consequences if they didn't and since they hadn't obeyed his command, and the husband was now dead and the wife was fighting for her life. Hermione wasn't sure Maria would survive, which was indeed a very sad fact of the case.

The man was psychotic, that much they knew. He was avenging someone but who, it wasn't certain.

One thing was certain, they were going to have to talk to the only other victims that made sense - the Malfoy's. She was going to have to talk to Draco again, and soon.

Harry and Hermione were currently walking through the Wizarding town of Paris, observing the people going about their daily routines or their spontaneous shopping dates. They were both enthralled in their thoughts, but as Hermione came to the conclusion that talking to the Malfoy's was pertinent, she brought the silence to an end. "We have to talk to the Malfoys."

Evidently having thought of the same thing, Harry made a sound of acquiescence, "I agree, and I think soon would be best. Is a trip to Malfoy in order first? You should probably fill him in on everything we have so far, too."

Hermione snorted, "We haven't gotten a lot, Harry - in case you didn't notice."

"We're going somewhere, and that's what's important." He stopped at a news stand and bought the only English paper there, the Daily Prophet. She knew he hated buying the tabloid due to the abundance of fabrication, but to keep in touch with home, they usually bought it everyday. Neither of them wanted to completely fall out of touch with home.

He frowned, "Lavender is on the front page again. Why is it that they find her so fascinating? She was rather one-dimensional, if I remember correctly."

"That's her appeal." Hermione replied dryly.

Harry let out an incredulous laugh, "And the Death Eaters are still fighting for magic. Why would they deserve their magic back after they took so much more from so many others?"

"I know.. I would think getting such an absurdly short sentence would be enough. Ridiculous, really.. If I was in the Law Department, I would be cleaning that place up."

"Mmm. Oh, Ron's also in the paper," He said in surprise, "About the baby. I'm slightly stunned that he agreed to an interview, and so soon."

Hermione shook her head, taking the paper from Harry, "You know Ron, he did always harbour a love for the limelight. Luna's only calmed it. Now come on, time to apparate."

Harry pulled a disgruntled face, "Ugh, I hate this part."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Oh, stop complaining, you."

* * *

They had been initially worried that Draco wouldn't be home, as he probably had better things to do than to sit home all day awaiting for them to perhaps knock on his door. Hermione knew he didn't have work though - he only played at night, but she wasn't sure when his shift started. It was closing in on four o'clock now and she hoped he hadn't already left - or indeed, was already out.

Harry assured her that surely Blaise or Draco would be in, and if not, they would find a way to contact him. It was a Saturday and so Blaise wasn't working, and was probably nursing some form of a hangover from the night before. She supposed Blaise was still the party-animal he always had been.

Standing before number 29, Hermione shot Harry an uneasy look. He gestured for her to knock and she took a minute to mentally prepare herself. Any contact with Draco required her to prepare herself beforehand as seeing him lately had a tendency to emotionally drain her after so long. She knocked softly.

The door opened within minutes, but it was not who she was expecting behind the door. No, it was not the lean, cool, blond aristocrat with the name Draco Malfoy but was instead his suave, smooth and lax best friend, Blaise Zabini. Why was he everywhere she turned?

"Blaise," Hermione stated wearily. "Have I got the wrong apartment?"

"Not at all, I was just visiting my friend. Filling him in on my nights escapades. Of course, he doesn't seem at all that interested."

"I'm shocked." Harry replied sarcastically.

"I know, you'd think I'd be used to it - but, sadly, no. So what do you want, anyway?" He asked cheekily, grinning as he leaned against the doorway.

"Let them in, Blaise." came the drawl from inside, and Hermione scolded herself as her pulse sped up a little.

"Yes, let them in, Blaise." She repeated, raising a brow in his direction. He held his hands up in defence, and stepped back to allow them entry. The apartment was in its - what she supposed - usual state of cleanliness, as Draco was a bit of a freak when it came to organisation and neatness. He was sitting on a chair in the kitchen, his arms folded and his head tilted back so that he was gazing at the ceiling. "Any particular reason for the pleasure of this visit?"

"The sarcasm never gets old, Draco." Hermione replied, moving to sit down at one of the spare chairs. She could see where Blaise had been sitting and took the seat next to it. Harry chose to lean back against the counter behind her. "We need to talk to you about the case again."

"Of course you do, why else would you be here?" He asked, quirking a brow, much like Hermione had earlier. It was probably a habit she had once picked up from him. He sat up straight then, clasping his hands together and resting them on the table. "What else have you gotten?"

"We talked to Andromeda, and she told us about the muggle bomb. Also about the letter - she only received one. We found Maria Blanc's - the last victim - letters and they had the killer asking for allegiance and promising consequences otherwise. In his last letter, after they did refuse, it had heavy profanity and was a lot similar to what Andromeda described. Here's the thing though, these victims, they don't make a whole lot of sense - the only thing they have in common is their blood. However, Andromeda? She _was _a traitor to the pureblood 'cause' and so were -"

"My parents." He nodded, following Hermione easily. "You need to talk to my parents then."

"As soon as possible," Harry added, getting that feeling that they were onto something. He wouldn't sleep easy until this route of action was exercised properly.

"Wait, you're all missing something here," Blaise said, attracting everyone's attention. "Who else is a sure-fire traitor to their 'cause'?"

Hermione and Draco frowned simultaneously, both giving Blaise a quizzical look as their brains sifted through memories and facts. Harry, on the other hand, picked up on it quite quickly, "Draco Malfoy."

"Bingo!" Blaise announced.

The blond man shook his head, "I haven't gotten letters since her death. My parents have, but not myself."

"Perhaps he feels as though you've gotten your comeuppance?" Hermione theorized, but no one could offer a definite answer either way. They couldn't confirm or deny anything, really, and it was all speculation. She hated that part of a case.

"Perhaps." Harry responded. "Either way, it's time we pay old Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy a nice visit."

"Sounds like this'll be fun!" Blaise laughed, much to the chagrin of the others, who all secretly agreed that it would be the exact opposite of _fun. _Blaise, however, was sure to be in his element amongst the awkwardness and absurdity of the meeting. He thrived on it.

A thought struck Hermione, "Who says you get to come?" she grinned.

"Please, Hermione, don't insult me - the Malfoys _love _me. Narcissa's positively in love with me."

Harry laughed and Draco wore a dismayed expression, "It's sad how true that is." He spoke flatly, causing Hermione to laugh.

Blaise stood then, a grin still firmly planted on his face, "I'll go with Harry and inform the big guy of what's happened." He told them, referring to their boss on the case. Blaise had been permitted to help them on Hermione's request, as he could advise them on the legal side of things, and he knew quite a bit about criminals and their way of thinking due to all of his experience. He also once took a crash course in psychology.

Harry agreed, and within minutes, Draco and Hermione were left alone. Outwardly, Draco appeared to perfectly cool, as he always did. The untouchable, icy, attractive Slytherin was of course perfectly composed across from her. He looked at her nonchalantly, as if her presence was a mere blot on a single page in the book of his life.

A question that had been begging at her since she saw him again, one that had been itching her since they last spoke, was once again at the forefront of her mind. She could see that physically, he was doing very well in France. There was no sign of the bruises and cuts that he sported from his auror field work - though they did give him quite a distinguished image of a 'bad-ass' as some of the bints in work had called him.

Instead of asking him a question, she turned to something else that had been annoying her for the past few days. "About the last time.. I-I didn't mean to come across that way; you were a brilliant auror and it would be gre-"

"Don't, Hermione. It's fine, I'm not an auror anymore. It's true, and no matter how much I may dislike it, it's a fact. Forget about it, but don't feel the need to bring it up again." Silence reigned once more as Hermione battled internally with the innate feelings to ask questions and sate her curiosity. She held it in until she couldn't anymore and felt as if she were fit to burst. She finally let go of the question that had been originally itching her.

"Are you okay?" Simple in its wording, but heavy in meaning.

Draco stilled and looked back at her, raising an eyebrow. "Am I okay?"

"Yes, I'm glad you heard the question, but an answer would have been nice." Hermione replied, wiping off her clothes to distract herself from the slight embarrassment. She had put herself on the line there and he had thrown it back at her. Why was she surprised?

"I'm fine - don't look at me like that, what more is there to say? I live in constant search and vigilance for this-this _asshole_ and most of the time turn up with nothing. It's not an ideal life, would you believe.."

"You'll find him - for her at least." Draco nodded, but didn't feel the need to respond. He didn't know what to say. It wasn't just Astoria's death that was spurring on, it was so many other things. It worried him and gnawed at him all the time; that this madman was anywhere and everywhere and Draco couldn't do a thing to stop him. He was always several steps behind and it was getting exhausting. He forgot Hermione was still looking at him, and so jumped at her next words. "And maybe then the guilt will go away."

He wasn't sure the jump was because he was unprepared for her to speak, or because he was afraid of the truth in that statement.


	7. There's Progress Now

A/N: A rather short and unfulfilled chapter, but even so. I'm going to try and write the next chapter now as well, but who knows how well that'll go. I've got a bit of a writers block with this story! Hence, the break in updating. However, I'm going to try and break through that! Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas :) Chapter title from Take That's "The Flood"!

Oh, and any guesses anyone have, I'd be more than happy to hear! :D  
xCNx

* * *

**Chapter Seven: There's Progress Now Where There Once Was None.**

It wasn't exactly as she had imagined it, that much was true. She had pictured a towering mansion, dark and foreboding, with sparse trees and dead flowers in the garden surrounding it. She should have known better than to be so childish! They lived in the south of France, and so the sun was shining when they arrived. The house was a neutral grey-stone colour and three stories high - lavish, of course. She could see that clearly from the outside. The grass was a blistering green and trees decorated the large garden, but strangely there was not an abundance of flowers accompanying them.

Hermione pushed away the sick and uncomfortable feeling she had in her stomach and followed Draco up the little path to the front door. Harry was close behind her while Blaise strolled alongside Draco, appearing perfectly at home as he whistled a tune she wasn't familiar with.

As they reached the door, Hermione was suddenly grateful that they weren't in Malfoy Manor back home. Harry sensed her unease and squeezed her arm lightly, assuring her that those were memories long gone. She nodded to him subtly, and then the door opened.

She couldn't recall ever seeing Narcissa Malfoy properly; it had always been in the darkness of a shadow, in the black and white of a newspaper article, and most commonly, from a distance. It was startling to see how alike she was to the pictures in the paper; she really was that youthful looking, utterly beautiful and aristocratic. As loathe as she was to admit, the difference between _her _mother and Draco's was stark, and it was evident to her that wizards simply had a much easier time aging - taking into account their longer life expectancy.

She regarded them with an abnormally warm smile. Abnormal because it, neither, was what Hermione had pictured. She returned the gesture weakly and then watched Draco hug his mother gently. "Draco, you missed lunch yesterday - Hopsy was making your favourite,"

"Sorry mother, I was busy - but next time. We're here today for business though. This is Hermione Granger and Harry Potter, Aurors from the Ministry."

"And you know me, Narcissa," Blaise gave her a charming smile, and then walked in the door as she pushed it open further.

Narcissa regarded her for a minute. "I do believe we've met before.." She trailed off, "But no matter. I understand you're here about the letters?" Her face had become grave and she was observing them intently.

Harry answered for her. "Yes, and the events surrounding all of it."

She nodded, "Well come on in. Hopsy is making tea as we speak, would you like some? Come now, Lucius is waiting inside. Wouldn't answer the door if I paid him!"

Draco had long gone ahead, and Hermione assumed it was to warn his father to be on best behaviour. Although, she had heard Lucius was most impassive and diplomatic when it came to such matters lately. One toe out of line and he would find himself in Azkaban. A Malfoy had never been so well behaved before.

Narcissa led them to a sitting room, which was far more personal than Hermione would of thought. Obviously her expectations of them had fallen dramatically short. She had expected a cold, detached and impersonal feeling to the room, but was surprised by the warmth she felt and the vibrant colour decorating the wall. She was also surprised that Narcissa was the one answering the door and guiding them, not the elves. It seemed the woman liked to take a hands-on approach to things, and she briefly wondered who held the control in the relationship of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. She supposed there was a balance, with slight tips here and there. (the war.)

Lucius had reading glasses on when they entered the room, flicking through the paper nonchalantly. He barely paid them a flicker of attention as they entered, and instead continued to scan the news. There was a subtle nod that if one hadn't been paying attention, they would have missed. Hermione, and Harry, nodded back but neither were sure if it was seen.

Blaise had made himself at home, falling back comfortably into the sofa and propping his foot on his knee. His arms sprawled out across the back of the couch. Hermione sent him a warning look, and he gathered himself a little. She took the seat next to him.

Draco sat in a single armchair, while Narcissa took her seat next to Lucius. She sent her husband an annoyed glance, "Paper down, Lucius. We have guests."

With a disgruntled noise, he folded it up and put it down between the sofa and the table next to it. After much dramatics with putting away his glasses and getting comfortable (fixing his hair), Lucius Malfoy was ready. "Granger, Potter." There was a pause, and all wondered what could really be said as a greeting. 'pleased to meet you' ? 'pleasure to meet again' ? 'good to see you' ?. "We meet again."

Sounded ominous, Hermione thought amusedly. "Under better circumstances, of course."

"If I remember correctly, the last time we met was at some ministry ball?" Lucius questioned, quirking his brow in a fashion that Draco usually wore.

"As I said, better circumstances." She joked, and then realised that this wasn't how she normally conducted house visits for witnesses or victims. She cleared her throat, "I- _We're _here to discuss the letters that you've been receiving. Could we have a look at them, please?"

Narcissa called out for her elf, and it was in front of them immediately. The elf didn't look unhealthy or beaten, but Hermione still frowned at the absence of clothes. She supposed that would have been a large leap though. "The letters." was all she had to say to the creature.

"When did you start receiving these letters?" Harry questioned, looking between the two.

It seemed as if Narcissa was going to be the one taking the questions. "Oh, it must be something around the five year mark now, isn't it, Lucius?" A sound of agreement and she turned and repeated, "Yes, about five years."

Hermione frowned, "And you never reported it?"

"Oh, it was nothing to us, dear. We had faced much darker times and people than someone who can only write a letter."

"Well it's evident they can do a bit more damage if their death toll is anything to go by," Hermione bit back, but regretted it instantly upon the other womans expression. She hadn't meant it in a harsh tone - she was just getting sick of everyone's flippancy.

Harry picked everything up again by asking another question, "But things took a wrong turn when Astoria was found dead? How did you know it was him?"

"That was more aimed at my Draco rather than us, you see. But we were warned that he was going to strike a family member… Traitor written on the wall, like we were always addressed in the letter. 'Traitor,' was always at the start of each letter." She explained offhandedly, "It was blatant, darling."

"Okay then.. And do you have any idea of who it could be? Who would be thirsting for revenge or feeling the biggest betrayal from you? Any enemies at large?"

Narcissa looked to Lucius here, but responded once again, "Enemies? Dear, don't be silly.. We have too many to count. Although significantly less due to our hasty switch in the battle, but many of the old Death Eaters would consider us enemies.."

"Bellatrix certainly had enough enemies for us to contend with - we were always her enemies targets. Crazy bitch."

"Lucius!" Narcissa reprimanded, a flash of warning running across her face and putting her husband back in his box. It was amusing for Hermione to watch. However, she had to hold the remark of how Bella was gone now, which was difficult as it was on the tip of her tongue, begging to be let go.

"I see. Well that certainly narrows down the list!" Harry laughed good-naturedly, and she was surprised by how well he was taking the whole visit. Granted, he was probably seeing it as questioning, as she should have.

Hermione felt there was something they were missing - something and someone that was right in front of them, "Is there no one especially holding a grudge against you?"

Lucius answered this in his trademark aristocratic drawl that Draco had also perfected, "Granger, everyone holds a grudge against us. When you are this rich, famed, beautiful and notoriously held - there are going to be grudges. From both the Death Eater side of things, and the Order."

She wanted to roll her eyes on that response, but somehow refrained. Her control was really great today, she thought. Draco, who had been leaning quietly against the wall, finally spoke. "There really is too many enemies to count, Hermione. There's no exaggeration in that statement," He smiled wryly at her, and she got the feeling he wasn't too fond of being hated by so many people. After all, he was rather accustomed to being fawned over.

Blaise, who was unusually quiet, had taken to flicking through books that stood on the lone bookshelf behind them - Hermione automatically assumed they had a library somewhere in this mansion, and wondered what the chances were of her ever seeing it. She knew it would be both luxurious and large - meaning it would be packed with books waiting to be read.

"How long were you in France before you began receiving the same letter again?" Harry again took the reigns.

"It was about a month, I'd say. Not along. Of course, Lucius insists that whoever it is is a coward and he can easily defeat him." Narcissa said this with an air that portrayed a disagreement on the matter.

"He only sends letters, Cissa. He can't even confront us." He sniffed disdainfully.

"More of a death eater tactic, isn't it?" Draco questioned, but not to annoy his parents, as there was a thoughtful expression on his face and she could see the clogs turning, "Sneaking in the dead of night, catching people on the unexpected from behind. Playing mind games; very death eater of them."

Harry nodded, "That's true, but all the death eaters had been ruled out after interviews. Not by us, but by another auror that previously worked with us."

Blaise glanced up from his book, "You should probably review those interviews. It was Skye that conducted them, wasn't it?"

"Yes…" She wasn't sure where he was going with this, though she did agree they should read up on the interviews to double-check.

He went back to reading, ever the blasé Blaise. "Well he was arrested for accepting bribes, not exactly one to rely on."

"If that's the case, and he took a bribe, then the interviews could have been tampered with, and most likely are. Reviewing them won't help us in that event," Harry explained, countering what had been said earlier.

"_Perhaps _Potter, he was just waiting for the penny to drop. Of course you would have to interview them again." Lucius in his haughty tone again.

Hermione decided that they'd discuss the rest of it later, "Could we see those letters now? We really have to be going." The letters had been left on Narcissa's armchair, and Hermione was itching to read them. Letters from psychotics were strangely fascinating - or maybe not so strangely, as many people found such things interesting.

Narcissa looked dismayed, "Oh, you won't stay for some tea?"

Hermione already had an excuse ready for Harry and she, about reviewing information and a meeting with their boss, but unfortunately for her, Draco Malfoy knew exactly that they had no plans for the day and he exercised it to his advantage completely; why would she be surprised?

"Actually mother, we will.. All of us are free for the next hour, so we'll have a quick cup and then be gone."

A bright smile graced the elegant woman's face, and her eyes lit up a little. "Wonderful. It has been too long Draco, and you too, Blaise. You know how we love your company around here."

"Oh I know, Narcissa, I know."

"A little too much," Draco grumbled, leading the way to the dining room, when Hermione would have to take part in the most excruciating cup of tea ever - or at least, that was what she imagined. Although it was now clear that all she imagined wasn't always accurate.

* * *

The dining room was had a sophisticated feel to it; beige walls, a long cherry wood table with up to ten seats around it, an ordinate bouquet of flowers livening up the room from the middle of said table and a great chandelier hanging overhead. It was certainly grand, that much was true.

She took a seat between Harry and Blaise, they being the ones she would feel most comfortable with. She was too jittery around Draco as of late - there were too many elephants always dancing around them. Draco sat across from her beside his mother, and Lucius sat head of the table. Narcissa's hand was noticeably on his knee - or at least Hermione hoped that was the case. They presented more of a united front than she remembered during the war.

"So Harry, Hermione, I never thought you would become an auror! After all of that fighting, why go back for more?" She seemed genuinely interested, so Hermione felt an obligated to reply genuinely, too.

"I just want to help," She shrugged. "There are so many that need rescuing and I'd hate to see them perish without someone trying to save them."

Draco was looking at her in a curious way, "You can't save everyone."

It was a fact she hated, but she could accept it. Harry, however, found it hard to swallow and he always had. For as long as she could remember, he tried to save everyone around him. She had expected him to launch into some rebuttal, but instead he simply sat there. She gave him a confused look, and he shrugged. It seemed Harry was growing up, too. It was about time - they were nearing thirty, after all.

Hermione decided to change the thread of conversation, and focused her eyes on the man sitting across from her, "I never knew you played piano, Draco. You kept that well hidden for all those years."

As he began to respond, Narcissa launched into a reply, "Oh, yes! And what a wonderful player he is. We had him learning at the age of six - at the time it was to beat that severely irritating Gina Parkinson, as Pansy was learning violin and by Merlin, we never heard the end of it. But we soon saw a talent, and a love, for piano. It was truly impressive and lovely." Her eyes were on Draco, pride beaming and warmth radiating off her in waves. She had never known Draco to be so loved, and Hermione knew it was probably in their later years - much after Voldemort and the war - that this kind of relationship was allowed to flourish.

Harry smothered a laugh, but Draco picked up on it, "Potter? Care to share the secret?"

He waited until he was finished, and then sighed contently, more to irritate Draco than anything, before he answered. "Gina Parkinson, is all."

"That is something to laugh at," Blaise agreed, chuckling. "Now there's a crazy bitch."

"Oh now, lets not get into all that." Narcissa said, but her pleased expression contradicted it completely.

Hermione noticed Lucius was checking his reflection in the glass of the door beside him, and for the first time saw the bow holding his hair together. Now, that was worth a laugh, but for the sake of their dignity, she held it in. She recalled him wearing something akin to that in their early years. It seemed Draco had picked up on this, also.

"Father, the bow is taking it a bit far."

He seemed unperturbed, "It does the job just fine, Draco." It was clear in his posture that Lucius was very much proud of his golden hair. Which, granted, was understandable as those locks were rather brilliant, it was just humorous seeing as it was the cold and biting Lucius Malfoy. Just as Draco was about to reply, a potronous entered the room. Hermione recognised it immediately and stood, feeling Harry do the same beside her. It was an advanced one, that could also carry a voice message, and came in the shape of a stallion.

"There's been another attack."

* * *

A/N: I knw, I'm a bit awful for the cliffhangers! I've a few requests to make of certain readers now.  
1) If you'd like to see me write a certain one-shot containing a certain pairing, I'd be more than happy. Vote in my poll or PM me, I'm dying for some fresh one-shot ideas :)

Actually, I was going to say something else, but it doesn't really matter! Happy New Year to everyone, hope you had a good one and have many good times in 2011! :D  
xCNx


	8. NOTE  THE END

Um... Hi. So, it's been a while.

Yeah, sorry about that guys. I'm genuinely sorry about the long absence... but I have very valid excuses. The first in a long line of bad things, was back in December. I was staying in Cork, and lost my USB with absolutely everything on it and coincidentally, the latest chapter of Dansant. And there came the lack of interest.

But then I gained interest again, and began a sequel to Founders Heirs. Unfortunately, my Grandad fell ill then and moved in with us... I lost interest again. He passed away in February, and a week later, there was a fire in my house which said _adios_ to my computer. Everything I've ever written was on that computer, and saying goodbye to that on top of everything else had made it nearly impossible for me to write. All my plans and chapters for Dansant were also gone now and so there went every, single shred of motivation I had.

To top it all off, it was my final year in school. Which means huge, collosal exams that crush your soul. Sooo... Yeah, they're my reasons I guess. I'm beginning to find my muse again in the name of music, but I will not be continuing this fic due to its ... inconveniences and memories, we'll say.

I'm sincerely sorry to those of you who were following, and thanks a million to the kind reviewers.

I will be posting soon. Glee has become a new interest of mine, so I'll be posting both Glee and Harry Potter. Also not ruling out a crossover at some stage.

Anyway, thanks again, and I'm sorry for disappointment (or maybe you're thankful I ended such a disaster fic? haha)

xCailinNollaigx

(Though I am BACK :D)


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